


Fang Fiction

by Chellann_Nicollares



Category: GMM RPF, Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M, New York, Romantic Thriller, True Blood AU--no cross-overs, hurt!Link, lawyer!Link, musician!Rhett, protective!Rhett, vampire!Rhett
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellann_Nicollares/pseuds/Chellann_Nicollares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where vampires are “out of the coffin”, Link is a lawyer in New York City who finds himself plunged into a tumultuous relationship with a tall blond vampire. In the meantime, Rhett is determined to protect the human he loves from his haunting past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically the True Blood AU, but since it’s set in New York, there’s no cross-overs and you don’t need to know the show. All the AU premise will be explained as the story progresses.  
> This fic is inspired by the “album challenge” from Supernatural RPF. The rule is to name each chapter after a song, and the content must take inspiration from the lyrics. I have chosen Save Rock and Roll and American Beauty/American Psycho by Fall Out Boy.

**Prologue**

 

_Shouldn’t your life flash in front of your eyes in a moment like this?_

At least, he had always thought so. But if his thirty-seven years on earth has taught him anything, it’s that popular belief is often wrong. Flashbacks had no place in his mind when reality was staring him down with a triumphant smirk, dressed in a meticulously designed and tailored black suit, casually holding a smoking gun. Flashbacks seemed unsettlingly trivial when the motionless body of his friend and colleague was laying limp in a mess of plastic tarp, fallen on his side from his kneeling position, with his hands still cuffed behind him. Flashbacks couldn’t be seen when his vision was filled with the fallen man’s blood drawing a crimson pool from his temple.

The nerves on the side of his neck seized against the frigid opening of the gun pressing into his skin, the gun that hasn’t fired but soon will. His whole body was at once tense and numb. All his sensations seemed to be narrowing towards that one frigid circle on his neck. The anticipation sickened him. He knew that any minute now, a fatal and unstoppable force would pierce through him at 800 miles per hour from that unimpressively small aperture, and his life would be no more. Had he known that his life would have ended at thirty-seven, he would have taken more risks, travelled far and wide, learned so much more, and chased after the man of his dreams so much sooner.

“It’s time to say goodnight.” The man behind the trigger said in a smooth, conversational tone.

The next thing he heard was a deafening blast. The room in front of his eyes suddenly shot up, but then he realized that it was him who was crashing towards the floor. A second later the world in front his eyes swiveled onto its side.

In the final moment, all he felt was fire and all he saw was darkness.

 

**Chapter 1 Irresistible**

_Coming in unannounced, drag my nails on the tile_  
_I just followed your scent, you can just follow my smile_  
 _All of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine_  
 _Cutting me to the bone, nothing left to leave behind_  
  
_You ought to keep me concealed just like I was a weapon_  
 _I didn't come for a fight but I will fight till the end_  
 _And this one might be a battle, might not turn out okay…_

—Fall Out Boy, “[Irresistible](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNkivNlkjj8)”

 

“All rise for the Honorable Judge Reena Kearse.”

Link stood up along with his client in handcuffs, the other lawyers in the courtroom, the audience and the stenographer. The judge took her seat, struck the gavel and called order. The crowd sank back into their seats with muted rustles of their clothing.

“The United States District Court for the Southern District of New York is now in session. This is the final sentencing hearing of Mr. Emanuel Zangrillo who has plead guilty for possession of an illegal handgun. The prosecution may present its case one last time before this court.”

Link glanced at his client. The young man with his dark hair cropped into a fade was hanging his head low with a tight frown, but his mannerism seemed carefully composed. The head of a cobra was intricately tattooed on the back of his right hand, its split tongue licked up his middle finger and its body looped in spirals around his forearm until it disappeared under the short sleeve of his grey-blue jumpsuit. The prosecutor’s chair squeaked slightly when he stood up, and Emanuel’s body tensed almost imperceptibly.

“Thank you, your honor. May it please the court, my name is Timothy Larkin, and I am representing the government. The defendant is being charged with illegal possession of a firearm, and the facts of the case are the same as they were previously before this court. On the night of January 12, 2015 police responded to a call of disturbance at the apartment of the defendant’s girlfriend, no disturbance was found, but the officer discovered an unregistered handgun in plain view. One bullet was missing from the chamber. At the time the defendant was asleep on the couch. The officers conducted routine questioning and found a single bullet in his shirt pocket. Lab tests concluded that the bullet matched the rest in the chamber. It is beyond a reasonable doubt that the gun was in the defendant’s possession, and his possession is against the law. Given the lethal nature of the weapon and the unquestionable facts of the case, we ask the court to sentence the defendant to the statutory maximum of 48 months’ imprisonment.”

The rotund prosecutor with a pale complexion and thinning blond hair sank loudly into his seat. Link noticed Emanuel lowering his head even more and clenching at his knuckles.

“Thank you Counselor Larkin. Now the defense may present its case. Counselor Neal?”

Link rose confidently from his seat and closed the second button on his narrowly tailored suit.

“Thank you, your honor. May it please the court, my name is Charles Neal and I am representing the defendant. We have previously challenged the appropriateness of the officers’ search and seizure of the bullet on Mr. Zangrillo’s person, but since the court has already reached a decision in favor of the government we do not seek to re-open this issue. My client has plead guilty to the possession of the weapon in exchange of leniency in sentencing. Today we once again submit to the court’s consideration the totality of the circumstances surrounding Mr. Zangrillo’s possession of this weapon. He had grown up in a dangerous, underprivileged neighborhood his entire life, and the apartment building he currently lives in is known for illicit drug transactions and random as well as targeted violence. Last November when he was taking out his trash at night, he was shot in the right calf by an unknown gunman. His sixteen year old sister is involved in an abusive relationship with an identified gang member, and she was living with Emanuel last year and still seeks shelter in his apartment even now. Emanuel has no priors and no gang affiliations despite the difficulty of his circumstances, and his acquisition of the weapon was purely for self-protection and protection of others. He has come very close to acquiring his GED, after which he plans to seek professional training and find a steady job. A prolonged federal prison term would derail these positive plans for his life. Given these attenuating circumstances, we ask the court to sentence at the statutory minimum of 16 months, taking into account time served.”

Emanuel was nodding slightly throughout Link’s speech with shimmering eyes. Link sat down and offered him a comforting smile.

“Thank you counselor. If either party has any corrections or additional comments to bring forth, now is the time.”

A young lawyer with smoothly combed black hair sitting behind the prosecutor handed him a small page with jagged edges that seemed to be hastily torn from a notebook. Link frowned and carefully watched the movements of the opposing counsel.

“Your honor, my colleague has just brought to my attention that we attempted to locate Miss Lulu LeFevre, the defendant’s girlfriend at the time of arrest, for additional comments and testimony, and all attempts to contact her failed. Her landlord confirmed that she has not been seen in the vicinity of her only known address. The local precinct is currently preparing a missing person’s case for further investigation.”

Link immediately looked to his client and saw his own shock mirrored in the young man’s face.

“Defense counsel, response?”

“Your honor, to my knowledge my client is not aware of this situation, given that he had ceased contact with her shortly after the arrest. More importantly, the new fact is not relevant to the case at hand. His previous relationship with her has no bearing on the weapon possession in question. And since the gun has been confiscated on-scene six months ago, it cannot possibly be related to her current whereabouts. We ask the court to strike the comment as inadmissible.”

“Granted. The court will hear one final statement from the defendant before moving to deliberation.”

Emanuel nervously licked his lips with wide eyes. Link gave him an encouraging nod, and the young man rose from his seat.

“Um…your…your honor? I just wanna say that…I know I’ve made a mistake. I live in a real bad neighborhood and like Mr. Neal said I was shot last year, and that made me even more scared for my baby sister. The guy she’s tangled up with is just…bad. I mean…he would scream at her, call her names, I would see bruises on her arms even though she said it wasn’t him…And everyone I know was telling me, like, you know, get a gun, get a gun…A friend gave one to me and I just took it, honestly I don’t really know the law, I didn’t know the questions to ask so I didn’t. But now I do, and I’m willing to pay for my mistakes, and I’m gonna work so hard to turn my life around, get myself out, get my sister out, and if I could spend less time inside I could get a second chance faster. So I would really…appreciate your leniency. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you Mr. Zangrillo. The court will now deliberate and we shall resume when a decision is reached.”

The judging panel retreated into the back chamber and the stenographer ceased his loud, rhythmic tapping. Hushed whispers came intermittently from the law clerks observing from the back row, but the overall solemn silence of the courtroom remained undisturbed.

The chamber door opened a few minutes later and Link took in a deep breath to quiet the brief surge of anxiety in his chest. The courteous standing and seating was repeated, and Judge Kearse leaned towards her microphone, ready for the moment of truth.

“The court has sentenced Mr. Zangrillo to the statutory minimum of 16 months with time served. He will serve the remainder of his sentence in Otisville.”

The sound of the gavel was punctuated by a quiet prayer in Italian from the young man in handcuffs. He stood up with Link and followed a bailiff out of the courtroom. A spectator shot up from her seat and chased after the small assembly.

“Mr. Neal! Grazie! Grazie mille!”

Link looked to the source of the exclamation with a polite smile, and saw the woman who was a head shorter than him, seemingly in her fifties. Her figure was thin but not frail. She was wearing relaxed dark jeans and a billowy flower-printed blouse, but the loose clothing did not entirely conceal her athletic muscle tone. Time has carved intricate wrinkles into her deeply tanned complexion, but the thinly and expertly applied makeup still brought the impression that she could very well have been a raving beauty in her youthful days. Her thick, black curls were pulled into a tight ponytail that swung behind her head as she continued to exclaim gratitude for saving her son in a mixture of Italian and broken English with theatrical gestures. The force of her handshake almost bruised Link’s fingers that she had grasped with both hands.

“Mr. Neal, how do we thank you?” The young man emotionally pressed the cobra-adorned hand over his heart and interjected. “I mean, you just took my case without asking for a cent and without you I would have been in there for four years, just for having a gun…God knows if I’ll even make it out…”

“Emanuel, pro bono work is part of my responsibility as a lawyer, all I did was my job. You don’t have to thank me. Just get your GED, excel at what you do and make your mama proud.” Link smiled, patted the mother and son on the shoulders and left them to their emotional hugs and sobbing words in Italian.

When he stepped out of the courthouse, the June sun was shining bright on the streets of Manhattan. He shrugged off his black blazer and yanked his burgundy tie loose, unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves to enjoy the short walk from the courthouse back to his office. The pungent spices of halal food permeated the summer air, and the cacophony of taxis, police cars, pedestrians on their cell phones and street vendors peddling imitation leather goods and cheap caricatures formed the familiar soundtrack to a day in the Manhattan life. Link had to side step slightly to squeeze through the crowd forced into a single file by the traffic cones lining a construction site. As soon as he crossed the street, he was greeted by the passionate slogans of young protesters from the Fellowship of the Sun.

“The light is God’s only truth!”

“Obliterate the evil that lurks in the dark!”

Link rolled his eyes with a tired sigh and quickly walked past the eager hands trying to thrust a pamphlet towards him. He could not say for certain that he had absolutely no reservation about vampires. Ever since they publicly acknowledged their presence a few years ago, emphasizing their ability to survive on a synthesized substance branded as “Tru Blood” and co-exist peacefully with the human race, Link has been more of a neutral observer. He applauded their integration into society abiding the laws of humans, but their ability to hypnotize—termed “glamouring” by zealous fans of the night-dwelling creatures—remained a disquieting thought on Link’s mind that discouraged him from investing full trust in vampires. None the less, he could say for certain that he wholeheartedly objected to the radical religious group that manipulated his faith to promote their anti-vampire political agenda. On a deeper level, he found it hard to believe that in the 21st century in a country that boasts to lead the free world, religion is still used as fuel for conflict against those who are seen as “other” and “different”.

His rambling thoughts didn’t carry on for long before he stepped back into his office and his mind gave way to his body’s enjoyment of the air-conditioned coolness.

“How did it go?”

Link looked up from draping his blazer on the back of his chair, and saw his mentee Brian peeking half of his lanky body into the door frame. The younger man stood two inches taller than him and had a quite striking look with carefully tousled strawberry blond curls, wide green eyes, a Grecian nose, and the fullest lips with a warm smile constantly playing at the corners. Link couldn’t helping smiling back to the witty, hard-working young lawyer that he saw great potential in.

“Statutory minimum with time served.”

“I knew it. You’re the best I’ve ever seen, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my boss.”

Link pushed up his glasses with a chuckle. “Ok Brian. Thanks.”

“Are you going to Rumor tonight? Gotta celebrate!”

“Uh…yeah sure.”

“Not excited about drinking? Are you even a lawyer?”

“Huh. Good one.”

“What, is it because Riddle Waltz isn’t playing tonight? Aww.” Brian accentuated his comment with an exaggerated pout.

“Oh come on, I’m way too old to be fangirl-ing like you kids.”

The good-looking young man frowned and tilted his head to the side. “I don’t understand how the term ‘old’ could be legally applied to you.”

Link couldn’t help chuckling and shaking his head. “Shut up and get back to work, kid.”

Brian winked at him with a wide smile and pranced down the hall way.

As soon as the young man’s footstep disappeared, Link sank back into his office chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

 _Riddle Waltz._ He thought. The enigmatic, versatile musician that seemed more like a fantasy than a man. Everything about him seemed just a touch surreal. His tall frame of perfection, his dark blond hair teased into a perfectly imperfect bouffant, his expressive eyebrows as powerful as the darkest brushstrokes of a renaissance maestro, and his magnetic voice that carried any tune from country to blues to classic rock with a graceful sway. And that composed smile playing on his bearded lips when he held his fingers in place, right before that first stroke on the seemingly magical guitar strings…that was the smile that always took Link’s breath away.

Suddenly embarrassed by the word “fangirl” that just happened back into his mind, Link sprang from his slouch, cleared his throat and tidied his hair with his fingers. He sat upright, re-directing his attention to the real world. Flipping open his sleek silver laptop, the meticulous lawyer began parsing through his work email. The first few were routine reminders for meetings and a few drafting questions from his colleagues, followed by some inquiries and thank-you notes from clients. He returned and re-organized them into the appropriate folders, and happily put a star on the message from his boss approving his vacation request for the end of June. But the very last new message was decidedly strange. The title simply read “thinking of you”, from the sender uknowurirresistible@gmail.com.

The lawyer in him immediately pointed out that the most likely and reasonable explanations were 1) phishing spam; 2) prank message; and 3) an ill-conceived attempt at being cute by some advertising company. But his rational analysis did not win the battle against the instinctive twinge of unease that was slowly creeping up his chest. He hovered the pixelated hand over the narrow line while his eyes tried to dissect the evasive identity of the sender.

u | know | u | r | irresistible

 _You know you are irresistible_.

He wanted to laugh at the immature cheesiness of the combination, but there seemed to be a hidden taunt trying to communicate a sense of familiarity to him, and it was irritating and unsettling that he could not decipher the message. He thought about opening the email, but the possibility that clicking through could expose his computer to some unknown risk provided a convenient excuse for inaction. He flipped down the screen and left early for the meeting that wouldn’t start until twenty minutes later.

When the meeting was finished he couldn’t stop thinking about the email all the way back to his office. But as soon as he walked through the door, he was greeted by the rich aroma of mocha. What immediately captured his attention was a Starbucks bag sitting on his desk. He reached in, picked up the smaller parcel propped up next to the coffee cup, unfolded the paper pouch and revealed a slice of his favorite raspberry coffee cake. He set it on the desk, pulled out the coffee cup and saw a small sticky note on top that read:

_You deserve a drink ;)_

_—B_

Link stared at the sloppily drawn wink for a few seconds and set the coffee cup back on his desk with a quiet sigh. He picked up his phone and sent a text to Brian.

-     _Can I speak to you real quick in my office?_

-     _Of course. Be right there._

Five minutes later the strawberry-blond strolled into his office with an excited smile.

“What’s up, Link?”

“Um…could you close the door and take a seat?”

“Sure.” The younger man did what he was asked and sat down with a hint of confusion in his expression.

Link rested his slight weight on the edge of the desk and folded his arms. For a few awkward seconds he stared at the floor chewing his bottom lip, not quite sure how to introduce the subject.

“How’s the research on that Johnson case?”

“It’s looking better. We still haven’t found anything from the Second Circuit but there’s this case in California with almost identical facts. With some creative arguments we can really make it work.”

“Good, good. That’s good.” Link paused and scratched at the curly ends of his hair that was prickling the back of his neck. “Thanks for the coffee.” He said, rushing his words.

“Anytime.” The handsome young man responded with a bright smile.

“But…um…what I’m really trying to say is…I mean…you bought me a _lot_ of coffee in the past month or so and…I just wanna tell you that you shouldn’t feel like you need to do so just because I’m your supervisor. I mean, I know a lot of you kids are talking about that promotion coming up next month, but ultimately that’s not my call. You are a very thorough researcher and a very good writer, and I was already going to recommend you to—”

“You think I bought you coffee to play office politics?”

Link stared at the wide green eyes that seemed more surprised than offended, and felt his mind go completely blank watching the lanky young man shot up from his seat with an impatient sigh and closed the distance between them with one leaping stride. He gasped at the firm fingers propped under his jaw and his breath caught in his lungs as his lips were sealed by a gentle kiss.

Link’s body was still seized in shock and his widened eyes seemed to have forgotten how to blink. Brian chuckled lightly at his dazed expression and drew a soft semi-circle on Link’s cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I thought you had reasonable notice of how much I’ve been checking you out.”

“Um…”

Link was still fighting the ghost swelling on the back of his tongue when Brian’s phone buzzed audibly while vibrating in his pocket. The young man pulled out his device with an annoyed grunt.

“My team is getting ready to draft the motion to dismiss for that lease dispute—you know, the one we took two weeks ago? Gonna take a few hours. Talk to you at the bar?”

“Sh…sure.”

Link finally recovered after the sound of his mentee’s footsteps disappeared entirely. He groaned out loud and sank his face into his palms.

* * * * *

Rhett paced impatiently in his light-tight room. The summer sun could not set fast enough. As soon as his digital clock beeped 8:18, he jammed a finger into the control unit on the wall and raised the black-out panel in front of his floor-length window. As a creature vulnerable to sunlight, he would usually take a brief moment to appreciate regaining the view of the open air, but tonight there was an urgent matter at hand. He needed to find _him_ before it was too late.

He could still remember the first time that slender brunet with stylish glasses walked into his bar. As a vampire who had walked the earth for nearly a century, Rhett was no stranger to beauty. But it still caught him completely off guard that a man so mesmerizing would just walk straight into his life on a night that seemed utterly random. While he was marveling at his figure that seemed to be chiseled by a sculptor after meticulous calculations of the golden ratio, he was rendered speechless by the thoughtful and kind blue eyes that seemed to offer a new smile with every blink. It was as if the noise inside the bar was suddenly hushed and the rest of the world faded out of focus, all his eyes could do was looking at the indigo-toned lighting reflect off of his silken hair and making his eyes glow brighter than crown jewels, and all his ears could do was obsessively trying to pick out his heartbeat and his voice from the raucous crowd. And when he did speak, the soft and sweet sound melted the blond vampire’s heart.

The first time he saw the brunet smile, the seasoned musician almost dropped his guitar on stage.

Week after week he would race impatiently to the bar and constantly glance at the entrance, hoping to see the dark-haired beauty modeling a well-tailored suit stroll elegantly into his space. Once or twice a week his love-struck wishes would come true, and the exquisite figure would settle at one of the tables along with his similarly attired colleagues, but never close enough to the stage for Rhett to lose himself in the rhythm of his heartbeat or the delicacy of his scent. But Rhett was still able to gather through cumulative and intent observation that the mysterious brunet seemed to be in the legal profession, given how often he and his company would speak of “district court” and “judge so and so”. He never drank much, seemed quick with a smile and always spent more time listening than talking. And whenever Rhett started to play, while the majority of the patrons carried on their conversations or fiddled with their phones, _he_ would courteously turn his attention to the stage and listen to the music, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, lightly clasping one hand with the other and holding them against his lips. Rhett would have to look away from those blue eyes that would shine like his personal lighthouse, and stare at his guitar strings just to not forget the tune entirely. And whenever the beautiful brunet heard a song that he seemed to particularly enjoy, he would lightly tap his index finger to the beat and smile like a happy child. Before Rhett really noticed, he had started tweaking his track list to include more of the soulful folk style that would, more often than not, put a smile on those soft pink lips with delicate feline curves. 

But even with his astute vampire hearing, Rhett was having difficulty discerning the irresistible man’s name. He thought he had heard the word “link” being used in the grammatical place of a moniker, but that couldn’t possibly be his name, could it?

Of course, the uncertainty of his identity was made even more frustrating by the difficulty for Rhett to approach the object of his affection. For one thing, he did not want the entire bar’s prying eyes to follow the tall blond singer all the way from the stage to the genteel bespectacled man enjoying comfortable anonymity in dim lighting. Equally importantly, he would not want to put him on the spot in front of the people he worked with on a daily basis and who would no doubt tease him ruthlessly about the proposition from the well-known singer in their after-hours haunt. So for weeks on end, all he could do was glimpse at the lovely brunet from behind his microphone, but only while performing numbers whose words were as familiar as the lines running through his palms. But despite his best intentions, it kept getting more and more difficult to focus—a phenomenon that Rhett did not think possible. The contributing factor was perhaps a younger-looking man with strawberry blond hair who seemed to have pegged himself as a regular accompaniment to the brunet, and would shamelessly ogle at him when he wasn’t looking. The insidious sense of competition gnawed at the powerful vampire who was simultaneously fearless, impulsive and introverted, and nagged him to act upon his feelings.

Those thoughts spun at lightning speed in his mind while he yanked on his softest pair of black skinny jeans and stuffed his arms through a nondescript grey V-neck, barely smoothing the hem down his body before impatiently yanking open his bedroom door, ready to race towards the man who had, even from a distance, claimed hold of his heart.

“What’s the matter?”

Rhett turned his head towards the soft female voice laden with concern, and saw his maker, Evelyn, standing next to the immense window overlooking the darkening East River.

“The dream. It happened again.” He said hurriedly, one hand already pulling open the door of their townhouse.

“Be careful.”

“I will.” He had already put one long leg through the door, but hesitated and twisted his head around with worry. “Could you keep an eye on Mirabel?”

“Yes Rhett. I’ll make sure your progeny doesn’t break all the hearts in Manhattan and put them in a jar just to show to you.”

“Among other things.” Rhett muttered. “Thanks Evelyn.”

He exchanged a quick smile with the lady who looked fifteen years younger than him but had preserved his life, guided and cared for him through the years like a mother. He rushed into the summer night air of the city that doesn’t sleep.

He raced through the streets with his inhuman speed—one of the repertoire of capacities that had been supernaturally enhanced since he had been turned vampire—in addition to staggering strength and exponentially sharpened sight, hearing and sense of smell. But one enhancement he did not expect was dreaming.

Even when he was a teenager, Rhett always took pride in the vivid and colorful quality of his dreams. Not only could he discern clear detail in the images that his mind conjured up during deep slumber, he could also recall upon wake the sight, sound and even scent and taste in his dreaming experience with immaculate accuracy. On rare occasions, he would catch an inexplicable glimpse of premonition, and later enjoy the exhilarating rush of déjà vu when his life in real time fitted the preview in his dreams like lock and key. His ability filled his teenage heart with a smug sense of “knowing”, and later taught him to appreciate the value of foresight in his adult life. Ever since being turned, the premonitions got worse—or better, depending on whether an onlooker was to take an optimistic or pessimistic view. Scenes of the future would play themselves out in his dreaming mind like video clips recorded on high definition camera. He would see familiar and unfamiliar faces down to the details of acne scars and mascara smudges, remember the way their hair fell at a particular moment, hear the words they spoke and later be able to describe every single inflection. He would be able to distinguish each trace of scent like unraveling neatly wound yarn, and recall the palpable textures of surfaces that he never physically touched but only dreamed of touching. But the staggering details would only be contained in isolated scenes devoid of context, leaving his frustrated mind with stray jigsaw puzzle pieces without counterparts or a panoramic view.

The frustration became infuriating and terrifying when two days in a row, he had dreamed of _him_ , laying on a dark ground of cement with his beautiful and delicate features twisted in pain, his body slowly and involuntarily rocking back and forth like a damaged roly-poly while a dismayed cry was smothered in the back of his throat. Rhett caught glimpses of white chalk lines and parked cars, and smelled a faint trace of gasoline and greasy pizza boxes poorly contained in over-stuffed trash bags idling in the summer heat. There were dark silhouettes of three menacing shadows, none of which revealed any facial features to his hawk-like vision. And before he saw all these images, he heard a taunting voice that chilled him to the bone.

_“Hey good-looking, what’s the hurry?”_

Rhett felt his fingernails digging into his palms as he sprinted through the darkened city, involuntarily tightening his fists. He had narrowed down the possibility of the location to a parking lot, of which there were too many in the Big Apple. But in the dream he also saw peeled cherry-red paint in thick stripes, two on the top and one on the bottom of the weight bearing pillars running from the ground to the ceiling, and he only recalled seeing those in one decrepit single-level garage sitting in the dead center of the geographic triangle formed by his bar, a prominent law firm and the district court house. Without any additional clue, he had to assume that garage to be the most likely candidate. He ran even faster, oblivious to the annoyed pedestrians shooting daggers with their eyes at his forceful movements that constantly threatened to knock the idle tourists onto the pavement.

He ran past the familiar front of his bar. Two or three smokers chatted and leaned against the wall next to the front entrance, and just as he was speeding past Rhett caught a glimpse of strawberry blond hair in his peripheral vision. The vampire hissed under his breath without slowing down. He zipped through the intersection before the walking sign came on, and exactly ten seconds later he heard the words that dubbed his worst nightmare.

“Hey good-looking, what’s the hurry?”

He was going in the right direction after all, but the source of the voice was at least two blocks away.

He was too late.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have my fingers between my teeth waiting for your feedback! Please let me know what you think in the comments. I love hearing from all of you!!


	2. American Beauty/American Psycho

_I think I fell in love again_  
_Maybe I just took too much cough medicine_  
_I'm the best worst thing that hasn't happened to you yet_  
_The best worst thing_

 _You take the full, full truth, then you pour some out_  
_You take the full, full truth, then you pour some out_  
_And you can kill me, kill me or let God sort ‘em out_  
_And you can kill me, kill me or…_

\--Fall Out Boy, “[American Beauty/ American Psycho](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smdNetoPFV0)”

Link drummed his fingertips anxiously on his desk and sighed again. Brian’s message continued to stare at him from his phone screen.

_Heading over to Rumor with my team. Can’t wait to talk to you._

It was past 8pm and he finally decided to clock off and leave the rest of his work for tomorrow. He carefully slid his laptop into the padded compartment in his computer bag and zipped his phone into one of the outer pockets. Gently, he rolled down the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, buttoned the cuffs and shrugged on his blazer without closing the buttons. He slung his computer bag onto his shoulder and left the empty office building behind his long strides.

Of course, there was no such thing as a “quiet evening” in Manhattan. Groups of heavily made-up girls teetered on the uneven pavements in their stilettos laden with flimsy spikes and rhinestones, eager to enter the rat race for attention in the city night life. Despite the dying daylight, destitute artists refused to abandon their niches right against the curb, inches away from overflowing trashcans, and continued to enthusiastically solicit business from the apathetic flood of anxious pedestrians. The chaos in front of his eyes warred with the tumultuous thoughts in his head, and Link decided to take a detour through a defunct garage for a prayer of clarity.

Bailing out was immediately labeled an unacceptable option. If he went home without talking to Brian tonight, he would still have to see him at work tomorrow, and neither lawyer had time to be distracted by unresolved emotions. Besides, Link has always believed procrastination to be a destructive habit, and abstained from it in his personal life. So the only question left was how to break the heart of a brilliant young man who sees him as a mentor and who happens to be an incredibly nice person.

With a sigh he walked past weight-bearing pillars with cherry red paint stripes and made his best effort to engage in a rational analysis of methodology. Saying “it’s against the rules” would be terribly perfunctory. A lawyer cannot simply tell another lawyer “it’s against the rules” without pointing out which set of rules, exactly where in the rules, and whether context, circumstances and common usage allows alternative interpretation. There’s no explicit rule against office romance of course. It’s an inevitable side effect of high achievers with no time or energy to maintain relationships while being confined in heightened stress and long hours. Everyone knows the privilege of “consenting adults”, and no one has time to judge anyone else for the proverbial dipping of the pen into the company ink. No hollow expression was going to save him from giving an honest, direct and personal answer. But in order to give an answer of this caliber, the information that he would have to share was something that he did not feel necessary to let his colleagues know.

“Hey good-looking, what’s the hurry?”

Link stopped cold and jerked his head towards the source of the voice. Engulfed in his own world, he had completely failed to notice that less than ten feet behind him, three men dressed in plain and non-descript dark clothing were approaching him in a distinctly combative formation, with the two flanking men moving faster and aiming for each side of his body, the one in the center falling slightly back and assuming coordination and control.

Adrenaline suppressed a heat wave of panic and made way for cold survival calculations. The two men nearing him were dressed in dark, close-fitting and well-made crew necks and cargo pants and similarly structured combat boots, almost uniform-like. This was nothing like a street gang with backwards baseball caps layered over bright bandanas, and comically large basketball jerseys swinging around indecently sagging jeans. Their bluntly cropped hair and gracefully clean movements screamed training and well-funded organization. _So, this is not a mugging_ , Link concluded. Someone was “sending him a message”. Without needing to see, Link knew that each of the operatives had at least one gun strapped to the small of their backs and concealed smoothly by the fabric that hang down from their shoulders and fell hollow around their trim hips. Each man would also have at least one knife—possibly a second gun—sheathed on their ankles, hidden by the loose hem of the cargo pants and ready to pull out with a swift dip of their hands without breaking the line of view. In their pockets would be smaller knives to be thrown with pin-point accuracy. However, they were sauntering towards him in a straightened, smug, almost relaxed posture, and neither of them had their hands looming near their weapons. But if Link were to reach for his phone in the side pocket on his computer bag, this could turn a _lot_ worse. If not, he may still be able to walk away at the end of it.

So no, his life will not be in danger. But yes, pain should be expected.

Link cursed under his breath while the flanks positioned themselves on either side of his body and the center man stopped two feet in front of him. It took him a second, but he realized that he recognized that face framed by greasy dark spikes, boasting thick unkempt eyebrows, narrow brown eyes and a furrowing scar that ran from under his right cheekbone past his jaw line.

“Artiglio.” Link said in a soft, conversational tone wrapped around a chilled core of distain. “I would have said ‘long time no see’ if the expression didn’t come from such a racist place.”

The scarred man snorted mirthlessly. “You’ve got quite a mouth for a video game fag. But we already knew that, didn’t we?”

As if on an inaudible cue, the flanking thugs each grabbed one of his arms, pressing his triceps forward and his forearms back, ready to twist and break the bones at any moment.

“I see you have assistants now,” Link’s inflection was not disturbed in the slightest. “Moving up the corporate ladder?”

Rage twisted the already scarred face into an even uglier snarl. He lunged forward, lifted his foot in a swift upward swing and kicked the steel sole of his boot forcefully into Link’s chest. In perfect choreography the flanking men dropped his arms. Without any counter-balance, the slight brunet fell backwards onto the cement and involuntarily rolled from side to side. He tried his best to suppress a whimper of pain while Artiglio leaned down and jabbed a finger half an inch from his askew glasses.

“Keep talking and I’ll have my ‘assistants’ cut out that tongue. The boss is gonna love it.”

Artiglio barely spat out his last syllable when the two goons were each knocked onto the ground by a whirlwind. The scarred man looked towards the loud grunts coming from his fellow thugs, dumbfounded, and his entire body suddenly seized. Still grimacing, Link turned his head in surprise and saw fingertips of a large hand wrapped around the back of Artiglio’s neck. The hand was tensed into an alabaster claw digging into the flesh. Above Artiglio’s head, Link saw a stunning face with fierce eyebrows that he had only seen lit by cobalt stage-lighting, never the garish rays of a parking garage. Neither had he seen such fury burnish through the wide, expressive eyes of ever-changing colors, replacing the artistic charm that used to captured Link’s attention from yards away.

“Touch him again and I will gladly show you your spinal cord.”

The beautiful baritone rang smoothly, but delivered a chilling menace colder than the January gust shooting through Morningside Heights.

Link barely saw Artiglio narrow his eyes and shift his weight onto one foot, beginning to curl up an elbow to thrust back, when the taller man moved in a blur dubbed by a pained groan. In the blink of an eye Artiglio was laying with his chest flat on the ground, with the tall blond’s vise grip still behind his neck. The vampire’s other hand clamped around the thug’s shin, folding his entire leg towards his back like a mis-shaped paper clip. The scar-faced man clawed at the cement in pain, letting out dismayed groans. The mysterious blond held his place gracefully with one knee on the floor, his strong arms barely flexing. However the seething rage on his face betrayed the serene composure of his body. Like a panther with its prey in hand, he leaned forward and bared his teeth. The light happened to be catching on the pearly whites in just the right angle, and Link saw a pair of brilliant fangs jutting out of the neat row like twin switchblades.

Before Link realized, he had gasped sharply and drawn the attention of the vampire about to execute his prey. The handsome face turned to him, and Link could have sworn he saw the furious glint in those dark green eyes melt away. The blond flung his arms to the side and tossed Artiglio out of his hands like a discarded rag doll. The attacker slid across the cement ground for quite a few feet. His back met the far wall with a loud thump, and another graceless yelp escaped his throat.

Before Link could say anything, the vampire had already knelt down beside him and gently slid one arm through the space under his neck, cushioning his head and bracing his shoulders.

“Riddle Waltz?”

Link asked, still mired in disbelief of seeing the musician he idolized revealing himself as a vampire and an expert combatant, all within five minutes of their first ever meeting in person.

Confusion fleeted through the vampire’s dark green eyes before they settled in realization, and the handsome blond quickly shook his brilliantly-coiffed head. “No. My real name is Rhett McLaughlin but that doesn’t matter right now.”

Link’s eyes widened in shock as the vampire pressed his sharp fangs into his own wrist, breaking the skin and drawing blood without blinking. Viscose red coated the tips of his fangs while he thrust the gushing wound towards Link’s mouth with an eager and caring look in his eyes.

“You need my blood.”

Link reflexively twisted his head away from the dizzying sight and grimaced with a strangled gag. Instantly he felt oxygen draining away from his brain faster than a deflating balloon. His body threatened to collapse and utterly embarrass him in front of the most attractive man—well, vampire—he had ever seen.

“No…please…not blood…”

“It will heal you and relieve the pain.”

“Thank you but…I faint at the sight of blood—really, I can’t take it, I’m sorry. I think I should just go to a hospital.” He reached out one hand and grabbed the handle of his computer bag which had fallen on the cement during the short-lived fight. “I appreciate—oh!”

Link yelled in surprise as Rhett shot his other arm under his bent knees and picked him up as if he weighed no more than a thin bundle of heather. Before he could politely decline, the vampire was already running. Street lights and buildings swished past Link’s peripheral vision, and barely a minute later he was staring at the back-lit letters of “Mount Sinai Roosevelt” and looking through the glass at people in white coats bustling about, pushing gurneys and IV racks.

Link started growing more self-conscious as he was carried through the automatic doors still in the vampire’s arms, and doctors and nurses started shooting curious looks at them. He wracked his brain thinking about how to politely ask to be set down, when Rhett quickly strode to a row of riveted chairs and gently lowered him into a seat.

“I will see to it that you receive prompt care.”

Link opened his mouth to say “thank you”, but as soon as he blinked the blond vampire was already talking to the reception nurse a few yards away. A moment later he returned with a clipboard holding the in-take form. He quickly sat down next to Link, pen in hand.

“What’s your name?” The vampire asked in a disarmingly gentle voice.

“Link. I mean Charles Lincoln Neal. My friends call me Link; it’s short for Lincoln.”

“Age?”

“Thirty-seven.”

The fierce vampire twisted his head around and stared at Link with naïve disbelief in his mercury eyes.

“Link, you’re badly injured and awaiting urgent examination. I hardly think this is the time for humor.”

“Um…no, I’m serious. I was born in 1978 and I just turned 37 on June 1st.”

Rhett stared for another second but quickly closed his agape mouth and redirected his attention to the form.

“You have a very youthful complexion.” He said quietly, fingers moving in a blur to write down the information Link just gave him.

“Thank you.” The injured brunet was attempting a smile but the pain in his chest twisted his brow into a frown. “You know, actually, talking kinda hurts. Is it alright if I take over?”

Link gestured towards the board. The vampire glanced at him with a hint of hesitation, but quickly surrendered.

“Of course.”

* * * * *

Rhett anxiously watched Link fill out the rest of the form in silence, half of him still aching to go back to the parking garage and finish off the three ruffians that he left writhing on the ground. Dreaming about the object of his desire in pain was one thing, but seeing it happen with his own eyes while he was a heartbeat away but too far to block the devastating blow, was so much worse. He still felt the remnant heat from the white hot rage that burned through him like gasoline thrown onto an open flame. Had it not been the look of shock—perhaps fear—that fleeted through those eyes the color of the clearest of glacial lakes, he would have sunk his teeth into the jugular of that walking waste of breath.

And yes, he was fully prepared to go for the kill.

The thought reminded him—the first word he heard spoken by the smooth, tranquil voice of the beautiful brunet was the name of that abominable scar-faced man. Three syllables: “ar-tee-leo.” He started running possible spelling combinations through his mind, deducting Italian to be the likely linguistic origin, which meant there might be a silent “g” somewhere.

But concentration proved extremely difficult. He was sitting inches away from the delicate face that looked even more captivating up close, and breathing in his scent—the aroma that he only caught fleeting whiffs of during all of the brunet’s repeated visits to the bar. Unhindered by the thick concoction of alcohol, detergent, cigarette, sweat, deodorant and a myriad of perfume ranging from absurd to masterful, there it was, the scent of _him_.

First there was the note of crisp green apple that drifted stronger every time he flicked his glossy dark hair, comforting and refreshing against the acerbic backdrop of disinfectant and medicine. Rhett also picked up the very subtle hint of masculine musk that enveloped his skin. For the vampire, the scent of the human himself was as pleasantly smooth as the impeccable texture of his lovely cheeks and delicate hands. And most importantly, only detectable to a vampire, was the sheer perfume of his blood. From a block away Rhett recognized the fragrance of elderflower, elegant, intriguing, humble but as sweet as candy, a perfect embodiment of the beautiful enigma that tempted Rhett to decipher.

And when the scoundrel hit his chest, how the bouquet of elderflower bloomed into the air…Rhett gritted his teeth and realized that that could only mean one thing—broken capillaries. His eyes glanced at the jagged outline of a footprint on Link’s crisp white shirt, and could almost envision the unsightly bruise hidden underneath. Rage flared through him one more time, but he willed himself to focus on the present, on the rhythmic sound of friction from the tip of the pen in Link’s hand moving in fluid cursives, his oddly steady heartbeat, and the sight of Link’s eyes partly concealed by the thick frame of his glasses but serenely fixed on the page. Suddenly he was seized by amazement of how this mild-mannered, bespectacled man with such a slight frame could hold his own while outnumbered by 300%, facing clearly armed hitmen in a deserted garage with no prayer of rescue. And now, with a painful injury inflicted by a seemingly familiar foe, he looked entirely composed and unruffled. Rhett was increasingly baffled and suddenly gripped by fear for the life of this beautiful human. He anxiously flicked his tongue over his plump bottom lip and glanced at the form under Link’s pen, secretively committing some of the information to memory.

“All done.” The soft voice affirmed a confident and forceful dot that landed behind the last word written, something that Rhett frequently did himself. “Excuse me.” The brunet said, attempting to stand up but stumbled a bit and fell back into his seat with shallow and jagged breaths. Rhett immediately sprang up, snatched away the clipboard and rushed to bombard the nurse with repetitive iterations of a possible broken sternum and punctured lungs. Thankfully the stocky woman kept her annoyance stashed under professionalism and quickly arranged for Link to have his temperature and blood pressure taken, his injury externally examined then promptly X-Rayed. Rhett stayed right behind the closed doors of every examination room that Link was rushed through, supporting the brunet with one firm arm around his shoulders whenever he needed to move. Before long the procedures were completed, and all they could do was wait for the results. The human and the vampire were shown to an unoccupied examination room. Link was carefully helped onto the elevated bed with his back resting on stacked pillows. He relaxed into the cushion and Rhett felt the anxiety gripping his lungs loosen ever so slightly. The nurse left a dose of Vicodin and exited the door, closing it softly behind her.

Rhett carefully watched the sharp bob of the other man’s prominent Adam’s apple as he swallowed the pain medication. He dug his elbows into his thighs and rested his bearded chin on laced fingers. A worried frown carved a deep groove into his otherwise smooth brow.

“Do you feel equipped to speak to the police? If not I could report the events on your behalf.”

Rhett only grew more baffled by Link’s look of shock and dismay.

“I don’t think that would be productive.”

“How so?”

The other man’s thoughtful blue eyes studied him intently for a moment, and the soft lips with delicate curves parted hesitantly. But the next sound in the room was not the explanation Rhett was aching to hear, but the ringing of Link’s cellphone in his computer bag. Without needing to hear a request, Rhett quickly retrieved the device and placed it in Link’s hand.

“Thank you.” The lawyer said, a look of amazement lighting up his clear blue eyes. Rhett left him a polite smile, swiftly stood up and left the room.

Softly closing the door behind him, he hesitated and lingered by the door. If the vampire were to be completely honest in respecting the other man’s privacy, he would have to go much further just to be out of earshot. But after a second of hesitation he was already too late. Link’s voice came through the door and he was fastened in place by curiosity.

“Hey Chris.” The buttery smooth voice was gentle and cheerful.

“Hey love.” Rhett’s acute hearing registered the other voice coming through the phone. It was youthful but raspy, with a clipped British edge to it.

 _Love_? Rhett felt as if the word physically struck him with a flaming cannon ball of jealousy.

“What are you doing tonight? I’ve got news worth celebrating.” The flighty tone and swallowed “t” suddenly became grating to Rhett’s sensitive ears.

“Uh, that sounds great Chris. But um…I’m in the hospital.”

“What? What happened?”

“Um…it’s stupid. Some guys tried to mug me. I mean they didn’t succeed, someone intervened and helped but…one of them hit me in my chest, probably broke something. I don’t know yet.”

“Mug you? You work between Broadway and Amsterdam, about five meters from the tube.”

Rhett had to begrudgingly admit that the Brit did not sound entirely useless.

“Well, yeah. I was going somewhere on foot and kinda took a back alley shortcut.”

“Aww, babe. You gotta be more careful.” Rhett leaned against the cool wall and felt his heart sunk by the term of endearment. “Where are you? I’m coming over.”

“It’s Ok. You don’t have to—”

“Ba-abe!” Rhett grunted, thinking how distasteful the immature whine was.

“Mount Sinai, 59th and 10th.”

“Oh, I’m not far at all. Be there in five. I’m bringing kisses!”

 _He’s bringing kisses_. Rhett felt an instinctive flash of anger, but quickly realized—with a sting of pain—that it was not his place to be angry. Evidently he did not mean the same to Link as the other man. He was just “someone” who intervened and helped, while the Brit named Chris was “love” and “babe” and the one who would rightfully bring kisses.

The image of the tall young man with strawberry blond hair flashed into his mind. But if he was the intimate partner of Link, why did it seem that the brunet never reciprocated his lustful attention? Rhett lolled his head to the side, momentarily lost. He heard the phone call conclude, waited a short while, and knocked softly on the door.

“Come in.”

Rhett opened the door and saw the brunet leaning into the pillows, drooping his eyelids with a cherubic smile. He inhaled deeply and made a quiet “hmm” sound that sent the vampire’s mind racing towards the imagination of erotic afterglow.

“Sorry, pain meds make me drowsy.”

“It’s quite alright. How does your chest feel?” The blond asked gently, approaching the bed with soft steps.

“Like a doormat under steel soled boots.” Link chuckled blearily, but something he saw on the vampire’s face made him quickly pull the smile back and widen his eyes like a puppy who did something wrong. “Thanks for staying with me,” he said softly. “My boyfriend is gonna join us in a few minutes, I hope you don’t mind.”

Even having heard the phone conversation and knowing the identity of “Chris”, Rhett still managed to be surprised by how disheartening it was to hear the word “boyfriend” uttered in that sweet voice and referring to a different man. He had to muster all of his performer’s prowess to make a polite smile.

“I understand. I should give the two of you some privacy.” He stood up and Link eagerly parted his lips, but whatever he was about to say was preempted by a rapid knock on the door. Link beckoned the visitor inside, and Rhett saw a head of cerise colored curls framing a complexion nearly as pale as the vampire himself. The man appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He had neatly groomed eyebrows and wide brown eyes encircled by a faint smidgen of black, a small, straight nose and a pair of subtly curled lips like those of a calico cat. He brought in the heavy and artificial scent of sandalwood made headier by the faint note of marijuana. His figure was a bit stocky, nearly a whole foot shorter than Rhett. The blond was quite amused, looking down at the hurried movements of the redhead’s short legs, until he threw himself around Link’s body.

“Aww, babe,” the raspy voice purred against Link’s shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye Rhett saw the injured brunet’s long eyebrows knot together from the sudden pressure on his chest. He felt the urge to peel away the short man in makeup and toss him into the corner, but quickly realized that he was not privy to their expression of affection. Carefully looking away, he still caught a glance of the visitor assaulting Link’s lips with his own, and the brunet’s slender fingers slowly inserting into the flaming red curls on the back of his head.

“Hi.” Link relaxed into a soft smile, and Rhett was momentarily lost in the beauty of it, forgetting that it was gifted to the third man in the room. The brunet suddenly turned to the vampire right when he was staring intently.

“This is Rhett. He saved me.” Link stated in a matter-of-fact tone, simple and firm.

“Wow! Nice to meet you! I’m Chris.” The petit Brit quickly leapt towards Rhett and held out his hand with a broad grin. The vampire looked down at him and realized that social convention dictated reciprocation. He stiffly stretched his lips in a political smile and offered a hand in return.

“Nice to meet you too.” Despite his efforts at affability, the ringing baritone was chilled to the core.

“Oh your skin’s nice and cool.” The young man exclaimed.

“Rhett is a vampire.”

Rhett swiveled to scrutinize the young lawyer’s face as he said those words, and saw a genuine smile with no hint of reservation or prejudice. He was suddenly delighted.

“Epic!!”

Rhett couldn’t help frowning at the childish red-head cranking his neck up to study his every feature with a zoological curiosity.

“Chris,” Link called out to his partner, seemingly in tune with Rhett’s discomfort. “What was the great news you had for me?”

“Right, right!”

The mighty vampire rolled his eyes with a relieved sigh when the short man pranced away from him and leaned against the bedside table to speak to Link.

“So I spoke to my agent today and we’re getting a new record deal!”

“For your band? That’s wonderful!” Link reached out and held both of the young man’s hands.

“Yeah. We couldn’t have gotten out of that awful one without your help.” Rhett flicked his eyes to the opposite wall when the Brit leaned in for another kiss. “ _But_ , this means I’m going to California. We’re leaving on the weekend.”

“Oh.” The sensitive vampire detected a suppressed tremor in the soft voice, and instantly turned back to stare at Link with concern. “For how long?”

The short Brit pushed a breath through pursed lips and made an unpleasant noise. “Hard to say. We’re meeting so many people—producers, writers, stylists, directors, new publicists…the company took some of our demos and wants to start recording right away; and while all that is happening we also need to write new songs. They’re also talking about a tour.”

“That sounds amazing. I’m happy for you.” The brunet squeezed the singer’s hands with a bright smile. And if there was any fleeting hint of sorrow in the clear blue eyes, Rhett was the only one who saw it.

A humming notification came from the bedside table where Link’s phone sat. Chris peeked at the lit up screen curiously.

“Who the fuck is Brian?”

Rhett glowered at the back of the cherry-red head, disapproving his use of language.

“Someone I work with.” Link picked up his phone and Rhett read the message from the reflection on his glasses.

_Still waiting for you ;)_

Link sighed and knuckled at the corners of his eyes. He swiped and tapped at the screen. The vampire’s acute vision read the reply as well.

_Can’t make it tonight. Had a little accident and had to see a doctor._

Link held the phone aside to set it down, and it sounded in his hand an inch from the table top.

_What happened? Are you OK?_

_Should be. I’ll know when the results comes back._

Almost instantaneously, the device started to ring.

“Hey Brian.” Link said, the twinge of unease in his tone intrigued the vampire to a great degree.

“Link! What happened?”

The red-headed human seemed oblivious to the sound on the other end of the line, even though it entered the vampire’s ears as clear as the proverbial bell.

“Oh nothing. Some tough guys tried to mug me.”

“What? How badly are you hurt?”

“Ehh. Nothing a little pain meds couldn’t take care of.”

“But you’re hospitalized.”

“Y-yes, for now.”

“Which one?”

“Brian, it’s fine really.”

“Link, around our firm there are only three possible hospitals you could be in. Don’t make me check each one.”

The brunet’s long eyebrows jumped up into his soft fringes.

“Uh…Mount Sinai.”

“On my way.”

The screen on Link’s phone went dark, and he stared at it with parted lips, momentarily dumbfounded.

“What’s that all about?” The boyish Brit folded his arms and cocked his head to the side.

“He insists on coming over.”

“Aww, your colleague is so nice.”

The way that Link’s eyes enlarged and his lips twitched made Rhett think that “nice” was not how the brunet would have characterized the situation. He thought about the youthful clarity of the voice on the other end and Link’s insistent effort to thwart his advances, and realized that this time it must be the strawberry blond.

Just as expected, after ten minutes of awkward efforts at a polite conversation amongst two musicians with vehemently contradictory preference in music and a competing interest in the incapacitated attorney, the small examination room welcomed a fourth occupant.

“Whoa, what are we, dancing with the stars?”

Brian glanced at the two musicians with a baffled smile, wafting in a carefully designed mixture of bergamot and sweet citrus, but the pleasant balance was destroyed by an unmistakably acrid phantom of cigarette smoke. Rhett tried to form a mental block over the scent to focus on the green apple and elderflower coming from the body of his dreams, careful not to indulge in the desire to get drunk on the brunet’s sweet blood. But it didn’t help that the source of the olfactory discord is walking straight up to him and holding out a friendly hand.

“Riddle Waltz? I’m Brian Zilla, big fan.”

The vampire reciprocated while lightly shaking his head and trying not to frown too gravely at the young man that he had recognized as foe before the flaming Brit entered the scene. “That’s a stage name. You can call me Rhett. Nice to meet you.”

“The vampire hero!” Chris jabbed a thumb towards the tallest man in the room and grinned excitedly.

“Rhett stopped the fight and brought me here.”

Brian turned his smile towards Link’s slightly drowsy voice, but his excitement was replaced by alarm as soon as he saw the vague footprint on Link’s shirt.

“And you know Chris Aidan. We’re…together.”

Rhett felt a morbid amusement as he watched the myriad of conflicts fleeting through Brian’s green eyes, from concern to shock to dismay and to hurriedly mustered civility. But when Brian turned to Chris and offered his hand, his full lips have already settled into a smile.

“Brian Zilla. I wasn’t on the team when our firm took your case, but I’ve always liked Kaynletum a lot.”

“Sweet! I didn’t even think our band had that big a following but hey, always happy to meet a fan!” Oblivious to the stiffness in the lanky barrister’s tone, Chris pulled Brian further in by his hand and patted him on the shoulder.

Just as Link was about to chew through his bottom lip watching the tension grow in the small room, another knock sounded and the same stocky nurse walked in. She was about to start speaking but was delayed by a confused frown upon the observation that the population in the room had doubled during the brief moment that she was gone.

“Charles Neal?” She pointed the board in her hand towards Link.

“Yes.”

“Well we’re looking at a simple nondisplaced stress fracture in your fourth and fifth ribs. Your sternum is fine since you weren’t in a car accident in the first place.” She gave Rhett a pointed look, leaving the other two newly added audience in utter confusion. “And we didn’t find any internal bleeding so we don’t need to keep ya. Here’s a prescription for Vicodin, feel free to keep taking over-the-counter pain meds after it runs out, if you need. The doctor recommends taking the rest of the week off at least, and just take it easy in general in the next three to four weeks.” The nurse paused to give Link’s wiry figure a once-over.

“You a runner?”

“Nah. I just take cycling classes at my gym.”

“Well I’d say wait a month on that. If you experience any sudden sharp pains or trouble breathing, come on back and we’ll take another look.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The nurse echoed Link’s charming smile and left the party.

“Brian? I’m gonna email Jennalyn and let her know that I won’t be in tomorrow. When I’m away you report directly to her. I’ll be back on Friday.”

“The doctor said the rest of the week.” Rhett’s baritone interjected eagerly. Brian and Chris both turned in surprise to the vampire who had been mostly keeping quiet since they arrived.

“Yeah.” Chris copied his concerned and intent gaze into Link’s eyes.

“He’s right.” Brian’s voice still sounded carefully controlled, but he joined in the agreement as well.

Link’s eyes roamed around the three men and his lips fell open under the peer pressure.

“Did I take too much pain meds? Coz’ I’m seeing triple.”

“Ba-abe! Your bloody ribs are cracked! Stay cozied up in bed!”

The two blonds both rolled their eyes at the childish remark.

“I’m taking vacation days at the end of the month, can’t be away from work much more than that. I’ll be fine.”

“Friday is always our slowest. You don’t have anything in court, we hardly ever have client meetings at the end of the week, and you don’t have any administrative conference scheduled either, as far as I know. All you have to do is research and writing, nothing you can’t do from home. So technically speaking, you won’t really be missing work.”

The mentee’s rapid firing left Link wide-eyed.

“Actually you’re right and also I taught you to argue too well.”

The two attorney’s shared a knowing smile. Brian preened while Chris seemed genuinely amused by the exchange. Rhett frowned and flicked his eyes towards the floor. He wholeheartedly agreed with the strawberry-blond’s efforts, but couldn’t help realizing that out of this limited group vying for the brunet’s affection, he was the one furthest away from Link’s life, with nothing to share with him.

“Has the police taken your statements yet?” Brian continued. Rhett joined the other two in riveting his attention at the brunet’s face.

“Uh…I don’t think this needs to be a matter for the police.”

“What?”

“What?”

The two younger man exclaimed in unison. Rhett simply stared at the brunet calmly, knowing that his protest had already been registered.

“Come on, you know how low the robbery solve rate is in Manhattan. It was an un-surveilled area, and they didn’t take anything, there’s no evidence or property interest to motivate the police. Plus I’ll be called away from work all the time to look at line-ups and appear in hearings. You tell me what the cost-benefit is here.”

Rhett felt deeply troubled, and not because Link was addressing only Brian. Throughout this entire evening, he had been lying to his romantic partner and his colleague. Rhett had heard the entire conversation between the brunet and his attacker, and every word was branded into his memory. The way that he acknowledged the thug by name and alluded to prior familiarity suggested that in no way was the Italian hitman trying to take his property by force. And knowing his name and identifying features and who knows what other information Link was holding back, it would be no mystery for the police. Furthermore, Link would not be taking on the burden of identification alone—Rhett would be more than willing to serve as a witness whenever necessary. No aspect in Link’s characterization of the events was true.

But how could Rhett come right out and accuse the delicate man of lying when he is bed-ridden with broken ribs, possibly still shaken and already cornered by his fellow humans?

“I think your reservations are understandable,” the vampire said, looking firmly into surprised blue eyes. “Especially since you’re currently under medication, it might be best for you to rest and recover first, and make a better calculated decision when you regain full sobriety. And if you do later decide to report this… _assault_ to the police, I will be more than happy to support your statements.”

Rhett read the amazed gratitude in Link’s eyes, and thought he saw a hint of understanding for the more subtle connotation of his words. But most importantly, he could savor and adore the warm smile that bloomed across the human’s serene features, knowing that this one was all for him.

“Grand! I think it’s time to get you home and start some uh… ‘recovery’.”

Rhett’s eyes instinctively narrowed at the way the raspy voice danced around the last word, and he clearly saw the flick of an excessively groomed eyebrow and the leer that followed. His suspicion was only confirmed by a very quiet gasp from Link and a nervous glimpse towards the two blonds. But then, Rhett realized that he had no right to disapprove of whatever they may do together.

“Good luck. Feel better soon.” Brian leaned in and offered his mentor a hug. Unlike the sprightly red-head, he carefully arched his body over the svelte brunet and only made contact with his shoulders. Rhett watched the lanky figure walk away until his slightly hunched back disappeared down the hall way.

“Can you stand?” He asked gently. The other singer raised his eyebrows at the question, but quickly looked to Link for an answer.

“I think so. The medication should have helped.” Link said, slowly swinging his long legs over the bed and setting his feet on the floor. Rhett inched closer, ready to hold out his arms for support at any second. The handsome lawyer planted a hand on the bedside table and pushed himself upright, swaying only incrementally. He picked up his phone and took a few slow and deliberate steps, and Chris already had his computer bag in hand, being very quick to put a short, muscular arm around his narrow waist.

“You’re doing great,” said the raspy voice. The stocky singer turned his face up and received a quick and chaste kiss. Rhett carefully averted his eyes and held the door open for the human couple.

“Thank you.” The enigmatic brunet held out a hand. Rhett met the friendly gesture of farewell, reminding himself that in this moment at least, it was not appropriate for him to want to hold that warm, delicate skin forever. He trailed a considerate distance behind the couple, cherishing the aroma of green apple, vanilla and elderflower, and trying not to think too much about how it seemed inseparably entangled with the sandalwood and marijuana.

“Your friends are hot!” The raspy Brit exclaimed, quite a few feet ahead of the vampire.

“Chris!”

“Come on, be more open-minded and the possibilities are endless.”

The automatic doors slid open and the humans made a turn as soon as they exited. But there was just enough time for Rhett to see Chris’ hand around Link’s waist moving lower and tensing up for a pinch.

The vampire stepped through the doors and broke into a sprint in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me your feedback down below. I'd love to hear what you think! ^_^


	3. Alone Together

_I'm outside the door, invite me in_  
_So we can go back and play pretend_  
_I'm on deck, yeah, I'm up next_  
_Tonight I'm high as a private jet_  
  
_'Cause I don't know where you're going_  
_But do you got room for one more troubled soul?_

—Fall Out Boy, “[Alone Together](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFhEBmNwX_E)”

 

Fatigue is a rare ailment for vampires in general, but when Rhett reached his house he felt more exhausted than he had ever been. He dragged heavy steps through the door, and his devastated frown was immediately observed by Evelyn’s anxious brown eyes.

“Oh no. Did he…”

Rhett did not realize how disheartened he must have looked until he read Evelyn’s horrified expression. He shook his head slowly.

“He’s alive, but he was hurt. I was too late.”

“Aww, sweetheart.” His maker came forward with soft steps and gently wrapped him in a hug. Her neatly brushed raven curls were briefly flattened against his prominent chest. “How bad was it?”

“Two rib fractures. He wouldn’t take my blood. It must be so painful...”

With a soft sigh the lady of the house tugged her progeny towards their enormous black leather couch. She reached up and gently pressed his shoulders until he sank into the thick cushions in a defeated slouch. In a whirlwind she retrieved a bottle of synthetic blood, warmed it and brought it to Rhett’s parched lips. The blond vampire took a half-hearted gulp of the bland liquid that betrayed its promising crimson hue and set it on the coffee table.

“Why wouldn’t he take your blood?”

“I don’t know for sure but it seemed to be a neurological aversion.”

“How is he going to recover, then?”

“The doctors gave him pain medication and sent him home,” Rhett squeezed his thick eyebrows together and held back a defeated sigh. “He went back, with his boyfriend.”

Evelyn lifted her meticulously groomed eyebrows while a soft “oh” escaped her lips. Realization washed over her and she frowned in vicarious dismay. Gently, she put a delicate hand on her progeny’s shoulder and comforted him.

“At least he’s safe now.”

Rhett responded with a distracted nod, seemingly unable to take comfort from the fact.

“And, _now_ you know he is also attracted to men.”

Rhett flicked dark green orbs towards his maker’s kind smile and suddenly realized that he hadn’t even thought to wonder about that. He nodded in a tacit agreement.

“Did you get a chance to get to know him?”

The progeny’s eyes lit up ever so slightly at the thought. “I did. His name is Link, and he’s a lawyer, just like I thought. He’s smart, kind, thoughtful…mesmerizing, really. He has an amazing voice and he looks even more stunning up-close.”

Evelyn’s delicate features bloomed into a bright smile. She gently patted the tall blond on his shoulder. “I could say the same thing for you, sweetie.”

Rhett peeked at his maker from under his long lashes and his lips twitched with a shy smile. “Your impression might be a touch biased, Evelyn, given our bond.”

“Hmm, I think your loyal fan-base would argue otherwise.”

“But what I do on stage is an act by nature, plus alcohol is just as potent a temptation as music.”

“Oh honey, excessive modesty can be unflattering, you know.” Evelyn squeezed her progeny’s hunched shoulder a few times until he turned heavy-hearted olive eyes to her. “How do you think _he_ perceives you?”

Rhett stared at his maker with wide eyes, suddenly anxious. “He treats me very kindly, just like with everyone else. And more importantly perhaps, he is not repulsed by the fact that I am a vampire.”

“That’s wonderful Rhett, I’ve always pictured him to be a very reasonable person based on what you’ve told me. But more importantly my dear—I’m sure you’ve heard his heart. What does it tell you?”

The tall vampire dodged his maker’s eager brown eyes and stared at the hard wood floor.

“I couldn’t say for sure. The rhythm was quite urgent when he was faced with the assailants. It was still rapid when he was in my arms, and then it gradually grew steady after we reached the hospital. But there were definitive spikes when his…boyfriend showed up. And later his colleague, who also seemed to be attracted to him.”

Evelyn’s eyes grew as wide as chocolate discs. “Oh my goodness. That sounds like a very…eventful evening. Why don’t you start from the beginning, my dear?”

Rhett took a steadying breath, organized his thoughts and carefully narrated the evening’s events. His maker listened intently, gently petting his flexing arms when he described what he saw in the garage, and covering his involuntarily clenched fists with her gentle hands when he spoke of how Chris’ careless hug might have irritated Link’s injury. When the blond concluded his narration, Evelyn nodded slowly and thoughtfully, contemplating the information.

“Some of this seems contradictory. According to your impression, he wasn’t fearful of the people who attacked him, so I assume he is not under their intimidation. But then, why wouldn’t he report this attack to the police?”

“I don’t understand either.” Rhett gripped his knuckles, squeezing his dark eyebrows together. His anxious eyes glowed like mercury, reflecting the bright pendant light overhead. “And…something he said. He said ‘pain meds make me drowsy’, like it’s…a known tendency. Most people would notice the lethargy first, and _then_ deduct the medication to be the cause. But when he said it, it was as if he was no stranger to pain medication, and he knew exactly how his body would react based on abundant experience…Evelyn, what if being in pain is a regular occurrence for him? What if he has been desensitized of fear due to constant…bullying?”

“Rhett, sweetheart, if he is indeed an established professional of the law who did not even flinch when faced with three assailants, do you honestly think he would be the kind of person to give into constant physical intimidation?”

Rhett blinked anxiously a few times, and gradually relented his irrational fear. “I guess not.” His fingers relaxed ever so slightly, and his eyes fell back onto the floor. “But I can’t shake this feeling that he is still in danger. With his partner departing for his travels, he would be left completely alone. I mean, not that the man who favors cosmetics would be any reliable protection to start with.” Rhett huffed a breath out of distain, and his maker pressed her demure fingers over her lips as she suppressed a chuckle.

“You know, you have to let go of your old-fashioned prejudice sooner or later. The contemporary society has been more and more accepting to male use of cosmetics. Especially on a performing artist, it is quite appropriate, really.” The chuckles she was holding back escaped her lips when she saw her progeny’s bearded lips tense involuntarily into a dismayed pout. “But aside from the cosmetics, what is this…romantic rival like, in general?”

“Short and immature.” Rhett spat impulsively. Evelyn raised one eyebrow, mimicking Rhett’s favorite expression of incredulity. The proud blond sighed and dropped his shoulders. “But he’s also…quite good looking. And very, very young.”

“Youth on its own is hardly a merit. I’d say the kind of wisdom that can only be accumulated through time and experience is quite sexy.”

Rhett’s dark eyebrows sprang up as he regarded his maker with a disbelieving smirk, but the expression on the lady’s face was thoughtful and serious. He smiled.

“Oh, and I think he’s also British.”

“Oh dear.” The raven-haired lady looked away with playfully exaggerated dismay.

“Evelyn!”

She chuckled again. “I don’t quite understand either but the mere nationality that you have described seemed to be considered an exceedingly attractive quality these days.” Her progeny frowned and ran a few impatient fingers up his sky-scraping hair. Evelyn placed her hand back on his well-toned shoulder. “But in all seriousness, Rhett, your intuitions have always proven to be astoundingly accurate. If you feel that he is still in danger, it might be wise to learn more about this situation. And communication is usually the quickest and most reliable method to gain perspective.”

The tall blond gazed at his maker, feeling a peaceful wave of resolution and reassurance wash over him. “I see. I will find a chance to talk to him and learn more about tonight’s events. Thank you, ‘ _mother’_.” The tall blond teased with a sarcastic edge to his tone. He bit his lip and peeked mischievously at his maker.

Evelyn pressed a delicate hand over her heart with a warm smile. “I consider that to be high praise, my dear.” She stood from her seat and took a few elegant step towards her room before suddenly turning back. “Oh, and finish your breakfast, ‘ _kid’_.” She waggled an index finger towards the bottle of synthetic blood sitting on the coffee table, and turned away with her hands interlocked and her chin held high like a stern mistress.

Rhett couldn’t help smiling and gently shaking his head at the endearing whimsy of his maker. He swiftly picked up the glass bottle, put it in the specially designed electronic warmer and tempered the liquid to exactly 98.6 degrees. He strolled back to the immense window and slowly sipped the imitation blood as he watched the fragments of city lights twinkle on the dark, undulating waves of the East River.

But even with his superhuman sight, the vampire was not able to see that right at the extreme end of his line of vision, quite a few miles from his window, two men clad in uniformly dark clothing were busying at the edge of the river, tying up the ends of a large black bag made of heavy duty plastic. With an echoed grunt they picked it up and swung it towards the dark waters a few times before releasing their hold in perfect synchrony. The package made a loud clash against the water and slowly disappeared below the surface. The pair of operatives walked behind the two other men standing guard, not sparing a backward glance to the faint trace of blood that had seeped through the black plastic onto the deserted concrete.

* * * * *

 

Link foresaw that the two days following his injury would not be a walk on the beach, but he hardly expected them to be quite this _unbearable_.

On Wednesday night it took him quite some effort to quite Chris’ wandering hands. The task was made far more difficult by the drug-induced drowsiness, but the insatiable young man finally fell asleep cuddled up next to him. However, after a few hours of mutual and uncoordinated tossing and turning, Link woke up at 4am with a ghastly pain deep in his lungs from inability to breathe. He opened his eyes to a muscular arm slung right across his fractured chest. Gingerly, he picked it up and set it between their bodies. Moments later, he was very glad that he was still awake and alert when the younger man in deep slumber flopped his arm right back across his body. But thankfully, Link’s waiting hands quickly blocked the heavy muscles sinking towards the purple mass on his skin. With a sigh he set Chris’ arm on the mattress and very carefully slid out of his bed. With small steps and shallow breaths he walked to his mossy green couch, carefully lay down and spent the rest of the night dosing in and out of consciousness in the narrow space. At 8am his eyes flew open to a bright heat on his eyelids. He realized in exasperation that he had forgotten to close the curtains in the living room, and the unforgiving morning light immediately dispelled all the remnants of his stupor. Giving up on sleep, he inched to his coffee machine with slow and deliberate movements, finally taking some comfort in the familiar aroma.

Two hours later Chris emerged from the bedroom, said a groggy goodbye and went back to his apartment for packing. Link held off the Vicodin as long as he could, but by the time he needed his second cup of coffee, the pain had become a burnt lead weight constraining his airways. He washed the non-threatening looking elliptical pill down with the bitter beverage, and was soon cursing how quickly and thoroughly it had overpowered the caffeine. It came as no surprise that twenty-page court opinions did not mix with lethargy from the medication and fatigue from sleep deprivation. After half an hour of leaden blinks in front of deliberately convoluted sentences, he slammed the screen of his laptop down and turned on his TV and media player.

He has been waiting for a chance to see _Kings of Pastry_ ever since he heard some colleagues mention the documentary, and the master craftsmen’s mesmerizing process of manipulating sweet and creamy substances into works of art put a brief smile on his face. But the Frenchmen’s broken, hesitant English that conveyed ideas at a painfully lagging pace only made the fatigue worse. He spent the next hour fading in and out of concentration and consciousness, and when he opened his eyes again the credits were already rolling, and he had missed all the grandiose presentations of sculpted sugar that he had been dying to see.

When he sighed, it hurt enough to make him curse out loud.

He spent the rest of his day over-thinking each breath, all the while consumed by anxiety from putting off his work and not knowing when he would be well enough to focus and catch up. Frustration accompanied him through the rest of the painful day. And when night fell, he wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or dismayed when Chris called and screamed over a background of excessive bass and raucous laughter that he would be “saying goodbye” to his friends instead of coming over. Not long after, Link gladly took another dosage of Vicodin, clambered under the covers and carefully lay down on his back.

Soon the fog dulling his consciousness grew heavier, faces and landscapes morphed and flashed behind his closed eyelids. In his drugged delusion he saw his hands suddenly looking smoother and younger, but before he could examine them more closely they were yanked above his head and tied together. He looked around and saw that he was laying in a familiar bed that he hasn’t been in for close to twenty years, wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue briefs. The mattress shifted slightly and another figure with short dark hair climbed up and straddled his thin hips.

“Ready, Link?”

He heard a sharp, metallic flicking sound. A small flame was transferred from the cheap lighter in the figure’s left hand to the candle in his right. It swayed in the dim room that seemed to be darkening, brightening and darkening again.

“No…” Link moved his lips in a mumble, and heard nothing.

“No!” He repeated, straining his vocal chords as hard as he could, but he still heard no sound.

“No, please, Ray…I don’t like this…” His words were meant as vehement protests, but instead became gentle whispers lost in the unfathomable penumbra of painful memories.

The candle tilted and rivulets of scorching wax fell on his chest.

“No!!” He felt the force of his scream bruise his throat, but silence persisted. The blistering substance pierced his skin, cutting him to the bone.

“This one’s too little. It melts too slow.” The voice from the figure above him was so loud and clear it practically rang between the walls. He blinked and the candle was gone. The figure from his past was holding his cupped hands together. In his palms a thick, dark and coalescent substance glowed, looking like molten lava that trapped flames beneath its undulating surface.

“I love you, Link.” The voice was painfully familiar and unnervingly gentle.

Slowly, he parted his hands with a ceremonial solemnness, and the liquefied fire cascaded onto Link’s chest.

“Ahhhhh!!”

His scream was completely muted but his eyes flew open. It took him a disoriented second to realize that he was in the present, lodged into his own mattress. Sometime during his delirious fever dreams he had tossed himself onto his stomach, and right now the weight of his own body, no matter how slight, was simultaneously crushing the internal fracture and the external bruise. He let out a shuddering groan and gingerly pushed his face off the sweat-drenched pillow. To prevent another episode like this from happening, he gulped another pain pill and laid back down on the couch where there wasn’t sufficient space to roll around.

The next day proved just as undesirable as the previous one. As someone who took pride in the ability to quickly sink into restful sleep and remain in peaceful oblivion, Link was all but devastated by the severe sleep deprivation over two consecutive nights. Groggy and distracted, he felt as if he was simply waiting for this painful day to end; but the prospect of sending his companion to the opposite end of the country discouraged him from looking forward to the evening.

During all the ambivalent plodding, Link forgot that he never cancelled the scheduled video conference with a high-profile client. The gloomy Skype notification tone droned on and on while he startled like a deer in the headlight, hurriedly forked through his hair, yanked on a collared shirt and gingerly closed the buttons over the massive purple bruise. When he turned on his camera with an apologetic smile, the demanding businessman on the other end was already impatient. He frowned as soon as he saw that Link’s background was a private space, contrary to expectations of a professional setting. Link hurriedly explained that he was taking a sick day, knowing very well that in this cut-throat industry, being sick was nothing but a poor excuse. He had ample time to reschedule or defer the task to a colleague, and he should have done so as soon as his health was compromised. Forgot due to pain and drug-induced lethargy? Well, that’s just poor organization. And on top of all the faux pas, he managed to yawn right when the client was talking about a crucial term in his contract. Link apologized profusely, but even with the poor streaming quality he could see the client’s exasperation and disappointment. After logging off, he groaned through the pain while frantically drafting an email to Jennalyn for help with damage control. Thankfully, his supervisor was very understanding and promised to further explain the situation to the client, while telling him to clear his mind and get as much rest as possible.

After burying his face in his palms for three minutes, Link finally decided to take a slightly more helpful course of action. He skipped his third coffee and popped a Vicodin instead, then sank into the couch and pulled a plush blanket over himself. The sheer exhaustion finally sent him over the edge into a peaceful nap, and when he opened his eyes again, breathing seemed to be marginally easier. As if it knew he was awake, his phone chirped a cheerful notification right then. Link stared at the unfamiliar number for a moment, suddenly gripped by alarm from the memory of that strange email that he never read.

He took a very careful deep breath that had to be abandoned before it reached the fractures, and opened the text.

_\- Hi, this is Rhett McLaughlin. I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me but I remembered your phone number from the in-take form. I still feel very concerned about the state of your injuries. It is alright if I pay you a brief visit?_

Link stared at the message in surprise and amazement, suddenly nervous. His reflexive reaction was to politely decline and ask for a raincheck, given how utterly disheveled he looked and felt. How could he show himself like this to the brilliant musician who just had to be heroically gallant, and always looked like perfection itself?

But much, much more importantly, this was the man who single-handedly overpowered three attackers and accompanied him with undivided attention through every step of his brief hospital stay. As baffling as the vampire’s devoted attentiveness might be, he had been nothing but the ultimate gentleman. All of a sudden Link felt the pleasant chill of the vampire’s strong arm around his back again, and the beautiful baritone was speaking soft inquiries of concern and gentle reassurances next to his ear. That impossibly handsome face was inches away, with all the power of those dark, expressive eyebrows and all the kindness behind that fierce gaze that seemed to be changing color with every blink. The sheer attractiveness of the majestic being drove his heart into a dizzying palpitation, and he immediately told himself that turning Rhett down was contrary to social norms of courtesy. He fought the anxious and irrational thrill and ran quick calculations of the amount of time it would take him to get to the airport, allowing extra for any traffic glitches. He decided upon a departure time and started typing a reply.

_\- Of course. Thank you for your concern. I’m free between 7 and 9:30._

_\- I’ll see you at 8:30 if it’s not too much trouble._

_\- Not at all! 8:30 is perfect._

Link quickly typed his address into the message box and concluded with additional expressions of gratitude.

The injured attorney procrastinated his shower until 6pm, but as soon as the steamy drizzle hit the stiff muscles in his neck and back from sleeping on the couch for two days, he immediately regretted not doing this sooner. He popped open the shampoo bottle with a sharp snap, and breathed in his favorite fruity scent with a childish smile. By the time he was systematically drying himself from head to toe, the brunet was humming softly and looking forward to some company after two days of loneliness. He stepped out of the bathroom without looking into the mirror at his new bruises and old scars.

At exactly 8:30, the doorbell rang just as he was chewing his very last bite of cereal. Link hurriedly swallowed the sugary mess and gulped down a mouthful of water. The forced expansion of his chest made him groan, but he quickly threw a piece of gum into his mouth and shuffled to the door as quickly as he could manage.

Rhett was standing outside with a smile as brilliant as his perfectly styled golden strands. The tall vampire was modeling an off-white linen shirt with tiny black buttons, and a pair of worn-in pale blue skinny jeans that looked as soft as cotton. Link was almost stunned by amazement when he saw that the musician’s expert fingers were holding a small bundle of carnations. The abundant white petals all had a thin rim of vermilion on their edges, as if an artist meticulously brushed each of them with a trace of blood.

“Hi, it’s great to see you again.” The brunet smiled jubilantly and shifted to the side, leaving the doorway open for his guest.

The vampire flicked his pointy tongue over his plump bottom lip with a smile that seemed a touch shy.

“Hi. Nice to see you too. But um…you need to…verbally invite me in.”

“Oh, right—the vampire thing. Come in please.” Link nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry I forgot.”

“It’s quite alright.” The vampire stepped in with a heartfelt grin and handed the flowers to Link. “For you.”

“Oh gosh…thank you so much. You really didn’t have to.”

“I was raised under the convention that you don’t visit a patient without a token of goodwill.”

“That’s fascinating, and wonderful.” Link couldn’t help running his fingers along the deep red outlines of the flower petals, momentarily distracted by the intricate beauty of them. When he caught himself and abruptly looked up, he saw that the vampire was gazing at him tenderly. The brunet flashed a quick smile and treaded over to the kitchen, flung open his cupboards looking for an appropriate vessel for the lovely gift. He stared at a glass pitcher that he stashed on the highest shelf beyond his reach and bit his lip.

“Maybe I can be of help.”

Link jumped slightly at the gentle voice that suddenly came from right next to him, and saw that the vampire had come to stand by his side with completely silent steps. The exceptionally tall man reached out a long arm and gracefully brought the glass container into Link’s hands.

“How is your chest feeling?” Rhett asked, patiently watching the thin stream of water slowly filling up the pitcher.

“Better, actually. Thanks for asking. Turns out a nap and a shower can fix anything.” Link flashed a lopsided smirk. Rhett seemed watchful at first, but the light-hearted warmth of the brunet’s expression seemed to have melted his hesitation. The vampire beamed, and Link was almost hypnotized by the boyish spark that lit up those wide olive-grey eyes.

Link fussed childishly with the arrangement of the flowers for a while before turning around and setting the bouquet on his counter. The vampire was standing on the other side of the marbled surface, casually leaning on his elbows. Link’ eyes trailed from the well-toned biceps that strained against the soft linen shirt, and fell on the dirty cereal bowl a few inches away from Rhett’s elbows.

“Oh shoot, I should really rinse that.” Link quickly picked it up with an apologetic smile. “You probably think I’m pretty weird, huh? Eating cereal for dinner?”

“You must have good reasons for enjoying it. Plus, I’m in no position to judge, given the…monstrous peculiarity of my diet.” The vampire suddenly seemed disheartened. His magnificent eyebrows knotted together and his eyes fell on the floor.

“I don’t think it’s monstrous.” Link quickly offered. “It’s part of what makes you who you are, with all the…kung fu superpowers.” Link grinned at the vampire who was tentatively peeking at him from under the longest eyelashes he has ever seen. “How do you know how to fight like that anyway?”

“A large part of what I’m able to do is thanks to sheer muscle strength from being a vampire. Whatever technical skill I may have, I picked up from survival needs over the past decades. But I did receive some formal combat training after I became sheriff of Area Thirteen.”

“Is that the number designated to New York?”

“Yes. The entirety of the State of New York.”

Link nodded slowly, fascinated. “So what does the sheriff of vampires do? I imagine it being quite different from human law enforcement.”

“It is. We don’t have quite the technology-backed hierarchical system of emergency response and dispatch. I rely on a network of deputies in whom I can invest utmost confidence; they keep peace and order in the regions they reside. But mostly, enforcement of the law in the vampire society is through punishment after the fact. So in a way, I’m really the judge and the executioner.”

“So hypothetically, if I were to represent a vampire, you would be the one listening to me in court and tearing apart my arguments?”

Rhett chuckled at the brunet’s smirk. “Vampires have to argue for their own cases, but when deserving, they do get a chance to be heard by a jury of sorts. When a particularly grave situation presents itself, such as an execution, a panel from the Authority would preside over the trial and offer their good sense and judgement.”

“Pro se for death penalty? That sounds dangerously arbitrary. Even in minor offenses the law is not always what common sense might lead you to believe. In my line of work judges always grant more leniency to the rare cases where defendants appear without attorneys. But if nobody has legal representation, I guess the playing field is truly even then. Instinctively I can’t imagine pleading for your own life, but if all you have is intelligence, eloquence and honesty, it becomes a true survival of the fittest.”

Link mused out loud while the vampire stared at him intently. He suddenly realized that he was still holding the dirty cereal bowl between his hands.

“Oh, right.” Link gestured to the bowl with an awkward smile and shuffled to the kitchen sink.

When he came back from turning off the tap, the tall frame of the vampire had glided to the opposite wall of his living room. He had his back to Link, his head tilted to the side and his hands casually stuffed in his pockets. Link disciplined his eyes to not linger on his guest’s slightly parted legs that went on for miles and the soft curves under the relaxed muscles of his backside. As if the vampire felt Link’s eyes on him, he turned around as soon as the brunet barely took a step.

“You’re a musician?” Rhett pointed towards the black guitar hanging on the wall, excitement glowing in his wide, bright eyes.

“ _Oh_ no, not by a long shot.” Link felt heat rising in his cheeks and quickly shook his head with an embarrassed smile. “I just strum at it sometimes when I get back from work.”

“So you play the instrument as a hobby. That still makes you a musician. You have the talent and the passion, regardless of whether or not you play it professionally.”

“But compared to you…”

The vampire shook his head vehemently. “I practice constantly while you devote most of your time to a different occupation. If you are any less skillful, that doesn’t mean you are less talented or less fit for the art.”

The boyish spark returned to those unfathomable eyes. Thrill lit up the vampire’s alabaster complexion, and the elated gaze made the masterful attorney suddenly tongue-tied.

“What style of music do you like best?”

“Actually, what you play at the bar pretty much characterizes my favorite kind of music. A good beat, well-constructed melody, and lots of soul. Oh and I’m a _sucker_ for big band.”

The vampire’s eyes widened like an excited child. “May I?” He asked, gesturing towards the guitar.

“By all means.”

Rhett carefully lifted the guitar from the wall and moved in a flash to position himself on the couch. He held his fingers over the strings and smiled at Link who was shuffling towards him with ginger steps. The brunet sat opposite the blond who had drawn one of his long legs over the couch with his foot casually crossing over the other knee, supporting the guitar on his thigh. For a second Link was seized by disbelief of seeing his favorite musician in all his glorious beauty right there on his couch, his chiseled face lit by the floor lamp in his living room and his statuesque figure relaxing where Link sat every day. And then, there was that smile of a magician ready to cast a spell known only to him.

The expert guitarist’s fingers danced over the instrument, and his charming voice weaved through the melody.

“I'm gonna love you like nobody's loved you;

Come rain or come shine.  
High as a mountain and deep as a river;

Come rain or come shine.  
I guess when you met me;

It was just one of those things;  
But don't ever bet me;

‘Cause I'm gonna be true if you let me…”

The brunet lost himself in his favorite song, and before he knew it he was singing in a harmony, closing his eyes with an euphoric smile.

“You're gonna love me like nobody's loved me;

Come rain or come shine.  
Happy together unhappy together;

And won't it be fine?  
Days may be cloudy or sunny;  
We're in or we're out of the money.  
But I'm with you always

I'm with you rain or shine…”

With his eyes closed and his attention tuned to the music, Link did not realize that Rhett had stopped singing and was only playing accompaniment to his voice. The brunet sang effortlessly through the rest of the verses and opened his eyes. The vampire was gaping at him, flabbergasted.

“I want you.”

It was only a mumble, but enough to make Link gasp in shock. He saw the hungry desire in the vampire’s smoldering eyes, his heart raced and his breathing grew shallow.

“—in my band. I want you… in my band.”

The brunet tried to ignore the fact that he was struck by a brief surge of dismay upon the vampire’s retraction, and smiled shyly.

“You’re not serious. Unless you guys want to put me on retainer as your legal representation.”

“No, I want you to sing with me.”

“I…”

“Link, you have no idea how perfect your voice is. There’s a well-rounded softness that will translate beautifully through the microphone, and you also have the kind of clarity that reaches into the higher octaves, which only comes from a natural gift. You don’t understand, Link, people train for years just to sound like you.”

“I…I’m flattered, thank you. But…there’s so much more to singing, especially on stage. Even if other people like my voice as much as you do, I don’t know anything about the subtle manipulation and control that needs to be tailored for each song, the emotional interpretation, the stage presence…”

“I’m more than happy to teach you everything I know, however limited that might be.”

Link stared at the handsome face in front of him. Determination and sincerity shone through the forest green orbs, and the unarguable set of those expressive eyebrows only made his intent gaze that much more irresistible. The attorney couldn’t help wonder if all vampires were as hard to say no to as the stunning blond one holding his guitar.

“You know…if I met you twenty years ago I would have said yes in a heartbeat. It would be an honor to make music with someone as brilliant as you. But…as it is, my life has settled into its own course, and has been for a long time. Ever since I started law school, I knew that this was a path with no turning back. My professional network took years to cultivate. I have clients and colleagues who depend on me…”

Link trailed off as the tall blond sank his shoulders and looked down, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth. His vulnerability looked incredibly human.

Suddenly, without a word, the vampire rose and returned the guitar to its display, and rushed back to his seat. He looked at Link with careful and searching eyes.

“Speaking of meeting you…”

It was only then that the brunet remembered the pain in his fractured chest.

“Link, who is Artiglio?”

The brunet’s full lips moved silently a few times, hesitating over what words to choose. He took a steadying breath and nodded lightly, determined to tell the full story.

“You were there and you saved me, so you deserve the truth. I better start from the beginning then.”

The vampire weaved his fingers together and pressed them under his beard, focused and eager to hear what he was dying to know.

“Until three years ago I was an assistant district attorney. I worked in the Manhattan DA’s office, under Cyrus Vance—we all call him Cy in the office. We specialized in federal prosecution of organized crime. I don’t know if you were following the news at the time but in January 2011 FBI succeeded in a major takedown operation against the five leading crime families in New York—people call them different things: the mafia, La Cosa Nostra, but in all honesty they’re just organized crime groups. During that operation more than 120 members were arrested, many of them were high ranking operatives. I was on the prosecution team at the time.

“I know a lot of commentators out there say that the FBI got lucky and ‘happened upon’ the bosses’ meeting site, but truth is the DA’s office was always prepared for something like this. For as long as the crime families have dominated the New York and New Jersey area, every year, every decade, hundreds of lawyers and prosecutors would contribute new documents, recordings, photos, terabytes of files to the evidence bank against the mafia, but most of it was just sitting dormant in the archive because most members of these crime families are never identified and never caught, and the ones who were just skipped overseas when they were out on bail and never saw a day in court. There were a small handful of successful prosecutions, but the cases would just get remanded on appeal, sent back to the trial court, and then the local judges would rule for the defendant again because so many of them were put in office only with the mafia’s permission.

“But this time it was different. The members that were caught were not low level operatives but captains—aka “capo” in their own circles. We even got some underbosses and consiglieres—the entire leader ring of the Colombo family was wiped out. The Gambinos took a great hit as well. Even the Genovese family lost 13 members, and they were the biggest, most feared and most secretive crime syndicate in New York. But even after this operation, we were still unable to identify their three-man leading panel. No one knows who the Genovese boss is, not even the other families. But still, everyone on the prosecution team was pumped for battle, working day and night organizing evidence, interviewing witnesses, gathering testimonials, interrogatories, writing arguments…I myself have never pulled so many all-nighters since college. But in the meantime pressure was building fast. Cy Vance was getting death threats daily, so was Janice Fedarcyk, the FBI agent in charge. The mafia is known to go after people’s families too, threatening beatings, kidnaps or even worse…many people I worked with who have kids sent them to schools in other states where their grandparents are. The mafia put a lot of people in the hospital too, myself included. Some guys came up behind me in the parking lot once with a baseball bat, broke my hip. Gradually more and more of us realized that this would be the last case we worked on as prosecutors because we all have people we need to protect, and we just can’t put them in constant danger. We held on as long and as hard as we could, but the team was thinning out. I don’t blame the people who left, because I was one of them.

“I started in the DA’s office in 2005, around the same time as Jason Inman, he used to be my best friend at work. We just… _get_ each other. Well, we used to. I’ve never shared that level of understanding with anybody. When we started out as prosecutors, it was the same year that Gigante “the chin” died. He was the old boss of the Genoveses, and since his death we’ve been keeping an even closer watch on the Genovese family than before, thinking that when a new boss is rising to the top, he’s bound to make some noises. We’ve been keeping tabs on all the major crimes that smelled like Genovese, trying to catch on to the new leaders while they are earning their creds, and make sure that our cases would be waterproof when the time comes. All the evidence we gathered during that time have multiple copies, backed up in the most creative places. And since me and Jason were already on their trail long before the bust, we were leading the sub-team that handled the prosecution of what we called the ‘Genovese 13’.

“But of course, the Genovese family is the best of the best for a reason. All thirteen of them were interrogated by the FBI for months, god knows what methods they used, but only one of them cracked and gave up the underboss, ‘shark eyes’ Fiumara. Within a month both of them died. The snitch was hanging from a bed sheet in his prison cell, and Fiumara was rumored to have died from a heart attack, but no one knows for sure. A week after that, Jason called me at three in the morning telling me he’s had a break through, but when I got to work the next day he wasn’t there…”

A sob escaped Link’s carefully controlled voice. He was bracing for the onrush of painful memories, but the pure force of anguish still took his breath away. He yanked off his glasses and pinched his nose bridge, and his entire body shook with the struggle to not cry out loud. The vampire stared at him with anxious concern and gently stroked his tense shoulder.

“The police said it was a suicide because they found sleeping pills and liquor bottles lying around his apartment, but that doesn’t make _any_ sense. Jason was ex-military, did two tours overseas. The guy could survive for three weeks in the desert on nothing but MREs. A guy like that would never take his own life. Plus, Jason never had a prescription for sleep medication, and he doesn’t drink at all. I tried getting to the bottom of it, tried to request the police report through proper channels, I was denied seven times. They had all sorts of excuses: the case was not yet concluded; it would compromise related ongoing investigation…but it was all a lie! They labeled it as suicide and tossed it aside from the get-go; there was no investigation. Then I tried getting _around_ the proper authorities, pulling the very few strings I had, but everyone I knew on the force held their tongues as soon as I mentioned Jason’s name. A few of them even transferred out of New York. To this day, I’ve never even seen a damn crime scene photo.

“I was consumed by Jason’s case and couldn’t focus on anything else anymore, and when I couldn’t find a single answer anywhere I…I lost it. I was irrational, distracted, angry, getting into arguments with my colleagues every day. Eventually Cy had a long talk with me and recommended I transition into the private sector. He called up his connections and practically placed me in the job I have today, but not before basically forcing me to take a three-month break from _everything_. And that’s Cy Vance for you, one of the most solid guys I’ve ever met, the man I have to thank for getting my sanity back.”

“So Artiglio…is he one of the Genovese thirteen?”

Link replaced his glasses and gently shook his head. “No. He was a street thug on the lowest level that was dredged up during the follow-up investigations. We barely had a case against him—all the evidence was only remotely circumstantial, and two of the witnesses went back on their testimonies. There was no federal felony charge that could hold any water. We had to toss him aside and focus on the more important members. But judging from how he came after me, well, ‘setting straight’ an old opponent is a typical way to try to impress a mafia boss. With the thirteen crucial members gone and the internal re-structuring in the family, Artiglio was definitely making an opportunist move, probably trying to make capo.”

“Link…I don’t mean to offend but…by not reporting him, aren’t you enabling his success in moving upwards in the crime organization?”

The brunet looked into the warm and tentative olive eyes, his own blue pair troubled and resigned. “I’m _out_ , Rhett. If they’re testing all the people who went against them, there’s no better way to let them know that I’m out of the game by _not_ making a move. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a decision that irritates my moral principles, but it’s a decision that keeps the people I care about safe.”

Rhett’s gaze fleeted between the earnest blue eyes, but it seemed that he did not find what he was searching for. Carefully and gently, he picked up Link’s hand from the couch cushion and held it between his own.

“But what about _your_ safety, Link? Can’t you see that you’re in grave danger? A violent criminal is coming after you and trying to use attacking you as a bargaining chip for rank and power—”

The brunet shook his head firmly. “I’m just an ordinary employee at a law firm now, there’s nothing I can do from my current position that can stand in the Genovese family’s way. And even if I want to, the team is _gone_. Even Janice left by the end of 2012. Cy Vance is pretty much the only one still remaining, and if you ask me he’s the one who’s in danger. But as things are now, coming after me, coming after any of my former team members, would just be for show; and doing it more than once is a waste of resource that would also draw too much attention. Knowing the Genovese family, their own people would never allow that.”

The vampire huffed a shallow sigh and nodded with perturbed eyes. “And that’s why you didn’t tell Chris and Brian, because not knowing is safer for them.”

Link smiled wryly. “For Brian, not knowing is definitely safer. He reminds me of myself ten years ago. Fresh out of law school, thinking that determination and discipline solved everything, that every single answer in the world was just one right question away. And, to make matters worse probably, the kid kinda has a crush on me. If I told him all this, he would jump into combat mode, start poking around in all the wrong places and showing his face to all the wrong people. I’m not just his supervisor, I’m his _mentor_ , I know that he has potential to do great things. But if he gets hurt on my watch…I can’t have that on my hands.”

Link stared deeply into Rhett’s eyes, searching for understanding. The vampire nodded after a brief hesitation.

“Well, for Chris, there’s just no way I could hold his attention through this many words.” Link chuckled wryly. “Plus, he’ll be safely in California in…” Link gently withdrew his hand from the vampire’s soft hold to glance at his watch. He gasped. “Oh gosh, I have to leave in ten minutes. Would you excuse me?”

“Certainly.”

Link stood up quickly and yelped out in pain from the sudden strain on his chest, but he pulled himself together and moved towards his coffee machine. After putting on a fresh brew, he plugged the sink and started filling it with detergent and water.

“I hope this is not too weird for you…” Link turned to face the couch while reaching his hands into the sudsy water without looking. “But I have to do the dishes before I leave, it’s an OCPD thing—”

The brunet gasped at a sharp pressure on his fingertip. He pulled his hand out of the sink and saw a trace of red seeping through the foamy lather. The next thing he felt was a gust that flung his hair outwards, and then his back was slammed against the wall. A large hand cinched into his waist while the vampire’s entire body was pressed against his front, his other hand pinning Link’s bleeding hand above his head. The compression from the cold body felt like a red-hot brand on Link’s bruised and fractured chest. He looked up in alarm and saw the vampire staring at his wound with a hungry grimace. His fangs glistened like daggers of ivory.

But while Link was just realizing how tightly and rousingly they were pressed together, the beastly glint in Rhett’s eyes slowly dimmed, and the hand around his waist was removed with stiff and shaky movements. The vampire jammed his thumb pad into his left fang, and Link squeezed his eyes shut before he could see the blood escape Rhett’s skin. There was a fleeting touch on Link’s fingertip, and then the entire body pressed against him was gone.

Link opened his eyes and brought his hand into vision. The skin on the wounded finger looked completely smooth; it healed so perfectly that there was no trace it had ever been cut. He looked up in amazement and saw the vampire’s towering frame cringed against the side of his blue fridge. He was covering his mouth with both hands, and his eyes were so wide and fragile that they reminded Link of a child horrified by the gravity of his mistake.

“I’m so terribly sorry.” Rhett enunciated with a small voice.

“No, it’s ok. You didn’t hurt me. And you fixed the cut.” Link smiled, trying to comfort the mortified guest. “Really, it’s not your fault. I’m ridiculously clumsy and accident-prone.” He managed a nonchalant shrug and turned back towards the sink.

“Please, allow me.”

Link barely parted his lips to begin a polite protest when the vampire had already glided past him and was moving his hands through the dish water in a blur.

Simultaneously, the coffee machine made a loud gurgling noise and then subsided. Link glanced back and forth between the beverage that demanded his attention and his guest whose hands were too fast for his eyes to follow, and decided with a yielding sigh that it was no use fighting the enthused gentleman. He grabbed his travel mug, poured in the bitter liquid with an addition of milk and sugar, and tightened the lid. With a quick “excuse me” he retreated into the bathroom.

* * * * *

Rhett placed the last of the rinsed dishes into the drying rack and stared at the locked bathroom door, consumed by guilt and anxiety. Making a fool out of himself by blurting out his feelings was only the least of his worries. Link proved to be a brilliant talent and a fearless warrior all within five minutes of his visit, and he couldn’t help but feel that the brunet was becoming more and more unattainably perfect. But before he could wallow in insecurity, a much more urgent and grave problem presented itself: Link is in danger. Regardless of how well the attorney could wrangle his arguments and justify his unreasonable lack of concern for his own safety, simply knowing that he was antagonized—and already attacked, twice—by New York’s most powerful and ruthless crime family was sufficient to make the mighty vampire shiver from head to toe.

And to top that off, Rhett had managed to exacerbate the brunet’s injuries by dint of his incurable and foul desire for the man’s fragrant blood. So now, while the impossibly beautiful human is standing alone with pained breaths against an insidious and tremendous enemy, there’s nothing Rhett could do.

Well, not _nothing_. He has vampire blood coursing through his veins.

If only Link would accept his blood, then not only would it cure him, it would connect him to Rhett with an insoluble bond, and the vampire would feel it whenever and wherever the brunet might be threatened by danger.

A flushing noise came from the bathroom and Rhett looked towards the travel mug sitting on the counter. _There’s no time to hesitate_ , he told himself. The vampire quickly unscrewed the lid, pierced his vein with his fangs and put a drizzle of his blood into the coffee. When he replaced the lid barely a second had passed.

The bathroom door opened and the warm orange light inside disappeared as Link flicked a long finger over the switch. He walked towards Rhett with a gorgeous smile, and the tall blond was immediately mesmerized by the graceful sway of his alluring frame. It was the first time that Rhett saw him in casual wear—a pair of charcoal skinny jeans and a dark blue T-shirt with minuscule flecks of white, and the change in his outfit made Rhett almost giddy with the realization of how intimate the setting of their meeting was. Without seeing the vampire’s almost smug smile, Link walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the travel mug and Rhett held an anxious breath in his throat as the brunet took a sip.

“Hmm. I should probably clean my coffee maker.” Link mumbled, lifting one of his long eyebrows.

_No, please don’t pour it out. Please…_

The brunet shrugged and turned to Rhett with a warm smile, and the vampire let go of the breath he was holding.

“Thank you so much for coming to see me.”

“My pleasure.” Rhett said gently, and trailed behind the attorney all the way out of his apartment building.

“You know, I really enjoyed our conversation.” Link said, standing face to face with the vampire on the pavement outside. Sincerity glowed in his clear blue eyes as his soft raven strands waved subtly in the evening breeze. “And…if you would like to hang out again sometime, you are always welcome.”

Rhett was almost lost in the human’s stunning smile before he realized that the brunet was offering his hand. The blond quickly took it into a friendly shake and smile back. “Thank you. I’d love to.”

With a courteous nod Link turned around, and his delicate fingers slid out of the vampire’s gentle grip once again.

Rhett stayed in place and let his eyes linger on Link’s back, trying not to think that each of his elegant step took him further away from the vampire and closer to the other man who was his own kind and rightfully his lover. He saw Link take another sip of his tempered coffee, and could not decide whether he should feel relieved or guilty. He remained fixed in place with a watchful frown, until the view of the speckled dark blue T-shirt disappeared down the stairs into the subway.

Rhett turned around and walked towards his house with unhurried steps. For now, he just wanted to prolong the fresh memory of being alone together with the man of his dreams, reminiscing his delicate aroma and his beautiful voice singing the vampire’s favorite song.

_You’re gonna love me like nobody’s loved me, come rain or come shine…_

 

_*[Come Rain or Come Shine [COVER]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32q0BHIa0fQ)\--B.B. King and Eric Clapton_


	4. Favorite Record

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: homophobic language (briefly spoken by supportive character)

_You were the song stuck in my head_  
_Every song I’ve ever loved_  
_Played again and again and again_  
_And you can get what you want but it’s never enough_  
_And I’ll spin for you like your favorite records used to_  
_And I’ll spin for you like your favorite records used to_

\--Fall Out Boy, “[Favorite Record](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsuN8KDa9i0)”

 

Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub.

The trees of Central Park stood as silent, motionless masses of black. His long, elegant body parted the night air like newly sharpened scissors cutting through fluid silk. The pavement retreated under his feet while he luxuriated in the chill from the respiration of the greenery all around him. There was nothing to hear, nothing to see, only Link’s vigorous heartbeat playing again and again in his mind like his favorite song.

Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub.

He saw that smile again. In his fantasy he reached out a cold finger and gently traced every curve on those soft lips from corner to corner. He imagined a soft hum by that buttery sweet voice. The long, dark eyelashes draped lower and quivered slightly over those smooth cheeks. With a hesitant blink he lifted his gaze and looked straight into Rhett’s eyes. The pair of sapphire blue searchlights illuminated the vampire’s immortal heart. He smiled wider, teasingly parted his lips and pressed the tip of his tongue onto the vampire’s caressing finger.

He started to breathe out loud. Desire burned like smoldering lava inside Rhett’s chest.

Yes, he slowly opened his mouth wider and let his fingertip chase the retreat of his tongue. Yes, he felt hot breath envelop his chilled skin and put another finger against the divot of the soft, moist muscle. Yes, those silky soft lips closed around his fingers. Slowly he withdrew and traced the meridian of his body all the way to _there_.

He threw his head back and mumbled the softest exclaim.

 _Yes_.

What if he hadn’t swallowed his words? What if he had gone on to tell the human how much he wanted him? How he had been aching to run his fingertips slowly over every inch of his honey-toned skin, through his onyx hair, press him between his arms and never let go? What if he had confessed how much he had wanted that nectarous voice to whisper his name between breathless soft whines of uncontrollable urgency? What if he had stayed pressed against his warm body with his wrist pinned above his head, and…

A branch cracked under Rhett’s feet and he stopped cold in his track. He remembered the real reason that he was closer than ever to that body of perfection. It was blood. He wanted to consume. To drain. To tear apart.

_What a monster._

After all, only a monster would trick the man he loved into drinking his blood, just because he thought he was protecting him. Right?

He frowned in distain of himself and sprinted all the way back home.

The door opened and a vampire in the prime of her youth and beauty was looming over an indistinguishable figure underneath her on the couch, swaying her body lightly with the luscious chocolate brown curls scattered across her slim back. Rhett tried to refrain from closing the door forcefully, but it still made a loud enough clink to make her turn her head around. She wore thick flicked lines around her pale blue eyes and hefty stacks of false lashes. He meticulously penciled brows complimented an incredibly slim nose. She bared her fangs with a bloody smile.

“Hey _daddy_.”

“Mirabel.” Rhett pressed his voice low and spoke with a dark tone. “How many times have I told you that feeding is an intimate matter that should be removed to the bedroom?”

“Hmm. For a guy who puts dicks in his mouth you really are a prude.”

Rhett could have sworn there was a flash of red in front of his eyes. He felt his fingernails digging into his palms and had to remind himself to not aggress his progeny.

“Why don’t you join me? I don’t think…uh…Ted? Here, would mind.”

The young woman swung her slender legs off the couch one after another, prolonging the strain of her backside against her tight, embarrassingly short black leather skirt. She repositioned herself beside the semi-conscious man, crossing her stiletto-clad ankles in a luring stance. She folded her arms in front of the periwinkle silk that skimmed over her proud bust and tucked smoothly into the constraining leather around her svelte waist. She stared at her maker with a belligerent flirt in her eyes.

A quick glance at the abnormally slack frame lying on the couch was enough.

“Did you glamour him?” Rhett shot to the stocky middle-aged man in non-descript blue jeans and a worn-out brick red polo. He pressed two fingers on his jugular with a grave frown and gently pulled back his sluggish eyelids with his other hand. The man appeared to be responsive, but drained.

“Really, Rhett? Do you really think that’s necessary after I tell a man like _that_ to come home with _me_ to my townhouse?”

“The offer of one’s own blood is a solemn gesture that confers the utmost trust and devotion, Mira. How could you treat it as…some sort of trophy-hunt to assert your attractiveness?”

“Oh, so now that you’re pissed at me for having fun, I’m attractive?”

Rhett sighed. He straightened himself from the feeder and took a step back, putting more distance between himself and the young woman. “Mirabel, I have been telling you since I turned you that I can’t deny you’re good-looking. I’m just not attracted to you in that sense.”

“Because you keep thinking of me as your fucking _daughter!_ I drank your blood and we took a dirt nap together, Rhett. That doesn’t make us _related_.”

“No it does not, Mira. But we’re bound by blood. And regardless of that, if we were to meet under different circumstances, I still would not have felt that way about you. Like I’ve told you repeatedly, I feel very little physical attraction to women in general, if any. Now please don’t tell me you’ve manipulated this innocent man into excessive blood loss just to spite me.”

“I’m sure you know that you’re hot, Rhett, but there are times when you should really get over yourself.”

“You know very well I didn’t mean ‘spite’ in the sense of jealousy but I’m in no mood to quarrel. It is of utmost importance to the safety of this gentleman that you personally take him back to his residence and ensure his conditions stabilize.”

“Taking people to places is a cab driver’s job, not mine.”

“ _Personally_ , Mirabel. Do not force me to use my command. You know it goes against my principle to make anyone do what’s against their will.”

“Oh but I get all tingly when you make me, _daddy_.”

Rhett squeezed his eyes shut and his exhalation shuddered.

“If you call me that again…”

Mirabel rolled her eyes with an impatient huff and roughly dragged the delirious human off of the couch by his hands.

 

* * * * *

 

Link stared at the word “Rumor” spelled out by old-fashioned neon light tubes wrangled into a fluid cursive, and didn’t quite remember how he got there.

There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the scene. The sandstone exterior wall of the bar was just as he remembered it, coarse to the touch but not without a simple elegance. If there was anything out of place, it was that the scene was far too quiet. He could hear muffled traffic noises that seemed to be coming from miles away; as if he was suddenly flung back to his childhood, sitting at the river bank next to his bike strewn across the grass, and listening to the sporadic passing cars on the street that he had left behind after a strenuous ride. However, Broadway should be merely 200 feet to his left and the night traffic never slowed down in this place. He was in Manhattan after all.

Or was he?

There were places in the city where the architecture style perfectly preserved the ghost of the glory days of New Amsterdam, and the carefully rationed patches of soil behind wrought iron fences boasted tulips in the shades of canary feathers or a jazz songstress’ meticulously painted lip. Whenever Link passed through a street like that, he would be quite amused by how surreal it felt—almost like being teleported to a quaint European town. But of course, a few hundred feet later he would be walking past an enormous metal trashcan with peeling dark green paint and Styrofoam and plastic overflowing from the top and scattering around the bottom. Yellow taxi cabs would zip by the curb at a terrifying speed, and he would be looking at the decrepit sign of a Thai restaurant right across the street.

But this was not like one of those places. This was Rumor, the bar where he spent numerous after-hour evenings with his colleagues, enchanted by the melodic magic of a brilliant musician they knew as Riddle Waltz. Except that his name was Rhett McLaughlin, and he’s a vampire, a peace-keeper reigning the mythical world of blood, and a most classic gentleman. His voice can be so formidable as to make a cavalry balk in its path, but it can also be so gentle as to make a stone-cold assassin drop his weapon and sink to his knees in tears.

Like the time when he said “ _I want you_ ”.

And he was right beyond that door.

Link tentatively pushed on the heavy wooden door and felt no resistance. It was open. He stepped inside with soft steps. Strangely, his eyes were not greeted with the artfully stylish crowd bustling under the surreal indigo light, and his ears were not assaulted by the cacophony of pointless conversations. Instead, he heard a gentle arpeggio on a set of familiar guitar strings.

He crept further into the narrow doorway but didn’t take the turn that would lead him into the cavernous interior of the bar. Instead, he leaned against the corner of the wall, trying not to intrude upon the artist’s indulgence in his solitary space.

The broken chords soon morphed into fluid sweeps and slides, and the musician’s voice, as smooth as a magnificent bourbon, made Link close his eyes and lean his head back on the wall.

“Babe, there's something tragic about you  
Something so magic about you  
Don't you agree?  
  
Babe, there's something lonesome about you  
Something so wholesome about you  
Get closer to me  
  
No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony  
No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me  
  
Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago  
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword  
Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know  
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door  
  
Babe, there's something wretched about this  
Something so precious about this  
Where to begin  
Babe, there's something broken about this  
But I might be hoping about this.  
Oh, what a sin

  
To the strand a picnic plan for you and me  
A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree…”

Right there, the musician’s fingers slipped into a dissonant chord and abruptly stopped. Silence drowned the lingering echo of the melody inside the dark, empty space.

“Hi Link.”

The brunet’s eyes flew open as he gasped. He fought his pounding heart and his momentary seizure, and slowly moved out of his hiding place. He brought himself around the corner on weakened knees, and turned to face the vampire sitting on the empty, distant stage who didn’t even lift his gaze from the floor.

“I’m sorry.” Link all but whispered.

“Why?”

“I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t. I caught your scent before you came in the door.” Rhett lifted his perfect complexion and spoke softly, perhaps a touch melancholic.

“Oh.” Link mumbled. “So the song…”

“Did you like it?”

“Of course. You always sing beautifully, no matter which song you pick.”

The majestic creature slowly rose from his seat, set his guitar aside and approached the dark-haired intruder with soft and graceful steps. Link was fastened in place by the other man’s charm, and couldn’t help watching the vampire’s lean muscles shift and strain against his black jeans with each movement. But without explanation, the dark-blond stopped several feet away from the uninvited attorney. He stuffed one hand into his pocket and awkwardly braced his other hand on a table by his fingertips.

“Where is everybody?” Link glanced at the uniformly deserted round tables and wondered out loud.

“Does it matter?”

The beautiful vibrato deep within the gentle baritone did nothing to help Link’s already racing heart. As if hypnotized, he dragged his steps involuntarily towards the vampire. To his surprise, the fierce being stumbled half a step back. His prominent chest rose and fell against his faded lavender grey V-neck in rapid and shallow motions.

Baffled by the vampire’s wide stare, Link was at a loss for words. The possibility that his presence might be repelling to this creature of perfection stung at his lungs.

“Link…it might not be the best idea for me to be alone with you.”

 _Oh_.

Link swallowed the pang of dejection and nodded towards the floor, ready to turn around and walk away.

“You have no idea how dangerously tempting your blood is to me. I…I almost attacked you last time. I shudder to imagine what could have happened, and I would never forgive myself if…” Rhett trailed off and shook his head with a grave frown.

“ _Attacked_ me?” Link huffed a surprised chuckle at the vampire’s dramatic choice of word. “You mean when you pinned me against the wall?” He teased, biting back a smirk and peeking at the other man from the top of his lenses.

“Link…” The vampire stared at him with wide eyes while Link took a step towards his towering frame frozen in place. “How easy it is for me to overpower you is not a matter for humor.”

The warm olive eyes held a perturbed look as the smaller man kept moving forward. Rhett was about to pull himself further back, but a warm hand wrapped securely around his cold wrist.

“I liked it.”

“What?” The dark-blond’s melancholy transformed into shock. His eyes darted back and forth between the teasing but determined look in Link’s eyes and the unyielding grip of his slender fingers.

“When you were pressed against me, with your hand right here—” Link said while placing the hand he was holding onto his waist. The fierce being opposite him complied with silent heaves in his prominent chest. “Yeah.” Link cooed with a soft rasp. “You have no idea how sexy that was, and how much I’m enjoying it right now.”

The amazement in the mercury eyes froze into animalistic desire. The vampire yanked Link forward by his waist until their bodies slammed against each other. His chilled fingers raked into the roots of Link’s hair. The brunet’s quickened breaths disappeared between Rhett’s wild lips.

Link reveled in the sweet taste of the vampire’s tongue and let the passionate movements of his own convey his desire. He relaxed the fingers around the hand on his waist and rubbed them slowly up the length of Rhett’s strong arm. He raked his fingertips past the friction of the soft lavender-grey cotton and dug into the groove between Rhett’s shoulder blades. While his fingers kept kneading the strong muscles, he pulled his lips back momentarily with a teasing smirk, and lightly kissed the small cluster of hair right under the vampire’s plump bottom lip. He tilted his head to the side and his mouth found the pin-straight line under Rhett’s beard. He kissed the soft, cool skin beneath it and felt the tendons straining against his lips. The fierce being lolled his head back with his eyes half-closed, and Link rocked himself into the taller man’s front with an unequivocal need. His message needed no elaboration. Rhett raked his fingertips down his back and reached beneath the stiff waistband of Link’s tight jeans. But the human was faster. His slender fingers flew to the closure of Rhett’s jeans and practically tore it open. In an instant he felt strong fingertips digging into his bottom, and couldn’t help moaning in thrill when one of Rhett’s hands fumbled around the back of his thigh and forcefully pushed up to wrap his leg around his body. The vampire’s hand rubbed back towards his bottom and gently kneaded his muscles, sending his unintelligible whimpers an octave higher and twice as urgent.

“Hold on to me.” The baritone was soft but conveyed an arguable command. Link hooked his arms tighter above the taller man’s shoulders and let the firm hands grip his bottom and lift his whole body in an upwards thrust. Instinctively he fell into Rhett’s chest and hooked his other leg around the vampire. His slender calves hugged the taller man’s taught gluteus as he felt the chilled air in the empty bar swoosh past his skin. The vampire had carried him across the bar in a flash while he grappled the majestic body as tightly as the setting around a diamond.

Gently, Rhett set the human down on an empty pool table. The brunet’s slight weight sank over the ledge and onto the green felt. His hands fell from Rhett’s neck and shot behind himself for balance, making him giggle at his own clumsiness. The vampire smiled. He leaned forward and pressed gentle, cool lips against the base of Link’s neck while his hands busied at the fly of his jeans. Link reached up a hand to gently brace the dark blond head. He turned slightly to plant a kiss into the spectacularly styled golden strands. His feverish lips quivered as the vampire gently caressed his sensitive body through a thin veil of cotton. He rocked into the large hand and kissed a trail towards the soft shell of the vampire’s ear.

“Why don’t you take what you want?” He whispered.

The vampire drew a sharp breath and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Link’s briefs. The brunet lifted his bottom off the pool table, and the vampire maneuvered both layers off with a fluid tug. Link devoured the bearded lips while dragging the elastic cotton down the strong thighs scattered with fine specks of gold, and reached for his massive, throbbing prize.

The vampire’s gasp was so sharp he had to pull back and read his expression.

“The heat of your skin…it’s…maddening.” The deep, ringing baritone gave Link the inexplicable impression that his reality was lost in some sort of Shakespearean erotica.

“Are we making dramatic porn or are you gonna fuck me?” He stretched his long neck to deliver a gravely whisper right into the blond man’s ear.

He could have sworn he heard a gulp. Link chuckled thinking about how much the vampire’s endearing shyness offset his massive frame and formidable power. He could hardly believe that the pair of soft lips moving against his tongue were the very same that had promised to show another man his own spinal cord just a few days ago. He pushed the thought of “Artiglio” and “Genovese” out of his mind and focused on how much the dark mystery wrapped in six and a half feet of muscular beauty pushed his arousal towards the apex. Even though the vampire’s fingers were merely doodling amidst the thicket of hair, not quite addressing his aching need.

“Touch me.” He urged.

“My hand might be too cold.” Rhett said softly.

The brunet yanked the bigger hand to his mouth and swallowed two fingers at once, his other hand still pumping the taller man’s passion. The vampire gently held his head and nuzzled his hair with the tip of his nose while leaving a trail of soft kisses with quivering lips. Link released the long fingers, rolled back on the green felt and unabashedly pressed them at his entrance. The blond let out a surprised sniffle. He froze for a second but soon started moving gently and tentatively. Link encouraged him with hectic moans and voracious licks of the hand that promptly returned to its diligent stroking. The vampire’s fingers soon echoed the sounds of pleasure from the back of his throat. The brunet lifted one of his long, slender legs and hooked Rhett forward by his thighs. Once the last trace of distance between them was eliminated, he held their erections together and joined the slickness dewing on their skin. He teased the vampire by his most sensitive nerves until his fingers dug into his upper back so hard it started to hurt. He guided the other man to enter him.

It was as if his body was finally _alive_. He could almost feel each drop of blood coursing through his veins. He savored each thrust of the magnificent being, and realized that he never really thought of him as inhuman until he heard his growl.

Fangs glistened in the cobalt light and dove towards his jugular.

Link’s eyes flew open.

He saw the same old ceiling that looked grey in the scarce moonlight filtering through his curtains. The same blank slate that would always stare back at him when he woke up from the usual nightmares. Or, in the case of tonight, something new and much more enjoyable, but the vividness and unreality of which much more maddening.

Sweat drenched sheets clung to his flushed skin like wet cellophane. Link peeled the fabric off without being able to ignore the undeniably excited state of his body. Apparently, a mere matter of hours after seeing his boyfriend off, his subconscious had started lusting after another man. He pressed a large hand across both of his closed eyelids for a frustrated minute before moving it down between his legs.

After a breathless moment of shame, he briskly scraped himself clean with a fistful of damp sheets, and yanked the whole thing off of the bed and tossed it to the floor. He let his spent limbs splay slightly away from his body like a despaired starfish.

That was when he realized that he could _breathe_.

 

_[Rhett's song for Link:[From Eden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cI0wUoCLnLk) by Hozier]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the loooooong wait y'all. I'll try to stick to my weekly update schedule as best I can but with working full time and summer term papers...you know how it is. Anyway leave me your thoughts down below!!!


	5. Save Rock and Roll

_I need more dreams_  
_And less life_  
_I need that dark_  
_In a little more light_  
_I cried tears you'll never see_  
_So fuck you, you can go cry me an ocean_  
_And leave me be_

_You are what you love_  
_Not who loves you_  
_In a world full of the word 'Yes'_  
_I'm here to scream (no)_  


—Fall Out Boy, “[Save Rock and Roll](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cnBxSB1jUE)”

 

 _This couldn’t possibly be real_ , he thought.

Well, he knew from abundant experience that it wasn’t, not at the very moment. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t _become_ real.

The pillow under his cheek was unfamiliar, but wonderfully saturated by the crisp scent of green apple intermingled with a masculine musk. Most of the bouquet was emanated by the perfect tousle of dark hair inches from his face. He traced the peaceful image from the stubborn curls that flicked away from his ear to the smooth, relaxed tendons on the side of his neck, following the smooth curve of his silhouette that rose sharply at his broad shoulder and gradually cinched down towards his narrow waist. The vampire’s fingers ached to trace the same route as his eyes, but as in every dream, there was just the right amount of detachment from his own body, just the most subtle of heaviness, of hesitation, of a strange surreal impression of "too good to be true" that made it painfully clear exactly what this was--a dream. Regardless, his desire only burned hotter.

A loud bang of a slammed door came from the living room and destroyed his lingering reverie. He half fell out of the bed, and saw that the cobalt blue digits on his clock glared 8:30. He scratched the remnant stiffness in his dirty blond spikes, having not the slightest idea how he completely slept through the sunset. He yanked open a drawer and quickly threw on what was on the very top of the clothes piles—a pair of grey joggers and a loose powder blue T-shirt. He rushed out of his bedroom in a flash to inspect the noise.

His progeny was standing in the middle of the living room, lazily rocking her head from side to side with one hand slowly kneading the side of her neck. At some point during the night—or day—she had changed into a blush pink shift with laser-cut eyelets that subtly revealed a matching slip dress clinging to her svelte body like a second skin. A semi-circle of large, stiff shopping bags boasting gilded scripts and lush ribbons crowded at her feet. She roughly kicked off a pair of bright red patent leather pumps with needle sharp kitten heels and rubbed her ankles with petulant groans.

She was not alone. Evelyn stood frozen by the dining table, distracted from her task of retrieving bottles of synthetic blood from the warmer and setting glasses out on the table. Her delicate lips have been hanging agape since the youngest vampire’s ostentatious entrance. Her shocked glance roamed from the young vixen’s slightly smudged makeup to the abundant spoils at her feet, and back up to her face again.

“What on earth, Mira?” Evelyn’s voice was soft but the disapproval was barely concealed.

“Half-year sale, _grandma_.” Mirabel scanned the small stature of the raven-haired lady with an acerbic twist of her lips. “Ample opportunity to update your closet, which I’d say is…about eighty years overdue?” She smirked at Evelyn’s short-sleeved cornflower blue dress buttoned from collar to hem and crossed her arms under her proud chest.

“One shouldn’t rely on external appearance for validation of self-worth, Mirabel.” Rhett’s maker gracefully retorted, entirely unfazed by the shallow insult. Mirabel was about to toss back more bitter remarks, but Rhett was quicker to speak.

“The man who fed you last night, did you return him to his residence like I asked?”

“I paid for his cab fare. What more do you want from me?”

On some level, Rhett had expected to be infuriated. He knew his progeny too well by this point. But the knowledge of her character didn’t stop him from a livid glare.

“The bare minimum of empathy, Mirabel. And decency. Sociopathic predatory behavior such as irresponsible overfeeding is the exact reason that our kind has been ostracized by the human society throughout history, and the exact downfall we have to abstain from in order to successfully main-stream.”

“And speaking of main-streaming,” Evelyn swiftly picked up Rhett’s position, “responsibly managing one’s finances is a fundamental aspect of integration into human society. That’s easily a few thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise in those bags, Mira. How in the world did you afford that?”

Rhett crossed his arms, inched a bit closer to his maker and angled his body to be parallel to her stance to show his acquiesce. 

“What are you accusing me of? I work to pay for myself and I saved up for the sale. Do you have any idea how rare it is for the malls to be sun-proofed during the day to accommodate vampires?”

“You write product reviews online for commission, Mira. Half of those bags are from Bergdorf.”

“Oh, we’re back to _that_ discussion, aren’t we? Just because you two old farts are intimidated by all things new and technological doesn’t mean someone younger and more talented can’t be extremely good at their job. I’m so sick of your ignorance and jealousy, both of you!”

In a fluid sweep Mirabel gathered her shoes and all he shopping bags. She disappeared into her bedroom in a flash and slammed the door.

“What in Heaven’s name has gotten into that girl?” Evelyn stared at the closed door and whispered softly enough to not be heard by anyone but her progeny.

“I suppose it’s possible for someone to amass a fortune with a cyber-based career, but it requires both outstanding business acumen and splendid fortune, the convenient combination of which is rarer than one can imagine. Whether my own progeny can be so lucky, I regret to say that I have no idea.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that we have time on our side, then.” Evelyn softly patted Rhett’s arm and handed him a bottle of blood. “With enough patience, hopefully we can one day convince her to communicate with us.”

Rhett nodded hesitantly and took a small sip.

“So…uh…my understanding is that you visited with a certain dark-haired beauty last night.”

“Evelyn!”

If vampires could blush, it would be Rhett’s exact complexion in that exact moment. But of course, he proceeded to narrate the entirety of his previous evening to his maker’s eager ears.

As their conversation grew more relaxed and animated, neither of them thought to worry about whether the youngest vampire sulking in her room was listening.

 

* * * * *

 

Monday started slowly, as usual. Link had spent the weekend catching up on the work he missed, trying not to dwell too much on the visit from the enigmatic vampire. But despite his best efforts, details and segments of the evening kept intruding into his mind. It didn’t help that he could wrangle no rational explanation for the disappearance of the suffocating pain in his chest that just happened to punctuate the erotic dream featuring an unreasonably tall and handsome blond. At the moment, sitting at his desk scrolling through court rulings, he found it hard to believe that less than a week ago he had been stalked, attacked and broken.

“How are you feeling?”

Link jerked up from his laptop and saw Brian leaning by the door frame, his expression polite and careful.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

The younger man nodded lightly, glancing at the floor.

“I don’t know how you’re managing the pain, but if at any point you need to delegate what you’re working on, I’m always here for you.”

Link scrutinized the undeniably handsome young man in front of him. He knew his mentee quite well at this point, but there were still times where he couldn’t help but feel amazed by the maturity and impeccable professional composure of the man ten years younger than him. To his dismay, their relationship may never be the same after the young man bared his heart to him in a gentle kiss that was never requited.

“Thank you Brian. I appreciate that.”

The strawberry-blond nodded slowly, falling silent. Despite Link’s implied conclusion to their conversation, he lingered in the doorway with a stubborn frown.

“Do we need to talk?” The mentor asked softly.

Brian looked up at the bespectacled man and swallowed hard. He awkwardly stepped into Link’s space and closed the door. With hesitant steps he brought himself into the chair opposite his mentor, on the other side of his desk.

“Do you remember when we met?”

Despite the abrupt line and the tension hanging in the air, Link chuckled. “You first day here? Yeah. You were wearing these ridiculously squeaky new shoes and you kept calling me Mr. Neal.”

The youthful, bright green eyes looked up from the floor. The intensity of that gaze drained all amusement from Link’s complexion.

“Do you remember the first thing you taught me?” Despite the miraculous healing, Link felt a pressure slowly building in his chest. He flicked his eyes away for a second, but the bright green pair did not relent. “What is rule number one?”

“Don’t fall in love with your client.” The brunet met the younger man’s eyes, but his voice was subdued by a guilty rasp.

“So why Chris Aidan?”

A surge of defensiveness twisted Link’s expression into a frown.

“He’s not our client anymore.”

“Every client is a permanent professional connection, Link. That’s rule number three.”

The brunet had no response but to rake his fingers through his choppy fringes, arranging and rearranging them to mask over a third of his face.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Link.” Brian leaned forward incrementally and softened his voice. “I just wanna know…what is it about him that made you break your own rule?”

“I don’t have to explain my personal life to you, Brian.” Link impulsively snapped, but instantly regretted the confrontational tone. “I…I don’t mean to be rude but I do recall telling you that it complicates professionalism to know your co-workers too well.”

The bright green eyes gave him a long, hard stare. He didn’t need Brian to tell him that describing their bond forged in understanding, trust and teamwork as that of “co-workers” is practically a slap in the face. But instead of acrimonious retorts, the young man only replied with a brisk sigh. He looked away with a string of shallow, rapid nods.

“I’m thankful for everything you taught me, Link. But some days I wish I had just met you in a fucking coffee shop instead.”

A soft knock fell on the glass door. Link swiveled towards the visitor and nodded, trying to smooth over his expression like a frantic addict flushing down evidence. But without a doubt, the intern gingerly pushing open the door had taken in his pursed lips and the associate sitting opposite him seething towards the far wall.

“What do you need, Chase?”

Link’s voice instantly reeled in the attention of the young, curly-haired man standing awkwardly behind Brain’s seating form.

“There’s a client in Consultation 3 asking specifically for you.”

“Since when do we take drop-ins? I have no appointments this morning.”

Link frowned, mostly to himself for not recalling any pertinent arrangements, but the wide-eyed intern was evidently taken aback by his blunt mood and curt tone.

“Sorry Chase. Uh…what’s the name and why are they asking for me?”

“He said his name’s Ted. And he said you would know what it’s about as soon as I gave you the name.”

“I don’t recall a ‘Ted’ in any of my cases, open or closed.” Link impatiently swiped at his touch pad, opening and closing folders, searching through logs.

“Should I run interference?”

Link flicked his eyes to the strawberry-blond. In the interim of the brief exchange, Brian had completely recovered his tone and expression to a seamless mask of professional poise.

“That wouldn’t be necessary, Brian. But thank you. There was a product liability inquiry that came through admin earlier. Take a look and start thinking about case law and arguments. I want you to run point on the research memo.”

The green eyes lit up in pleasant surprise for a split second before they dimmed in dismayed realization. “Product liability, that’s Emma’s department, not yours.”

“Right. I was going to send her an email, but she’s already heard of the quality of your work. I think it’ll be good for you to start familiarizing with the other senior attorneys and partners in the firm. You don’t wanna limit yourself to one field so early in your career.”

Link could almost hear the word “bullshit” darted at him from Brian’s eyes. But his mentee was far more mature and savvy than to say so out loud in a law office, in front of a neutral third party.

“Ok. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

Brian’s stare was a fierce challenge in its most tacit form. Link kept a firm expression and nodded briskly.

“Good. In the meantime I’m gonna go find out why this Ted person thinks he needs to talk to me.”

Link sidestepped past the bewildered intern looking as maladroit as a young child caught in passive aggressive parental dispute. He had not walked far enough to be out of earshot when the intern started speaking.

“Dude…is he basically asking you to transfer yourself?”

“No.” Brian’s voice rang as clear and assertive as ever.

“Like…people think every single person that wears glasses is super nice but…he’s so intimidating.”

Link turned a corner and didn’t hear the reply.

When he pushed open another glass door, the unfamiliar face waiting in the consultation room only confirmed his skepticism. Link had never seen the middle-aged man fidgeting on the couch. He briskly scanned his features and took in the scattered white strands in his unruly eyebrows and coarse hair. A brick-red button-down shirt strained against the bulge of his stomach and bunched in a sloppy tuck into his ill-fitted jeans fastened with a battered brown leather belt. Upon the entrance of the seasoned attorney, the man nervously shot up from his seat in front of the floor-length window and eagerly extended his hand.

“Hi, how are you doing? Ted Fortune.”

“Link Neal. Nice to meet you. My colleague told me that you asked to speak to me specifically but…I don’t seem to recall any prior meetings with you. Could you refresh my memory?”

Link gestured towards the couch and they booth sat down. Ted sank into his original seat and Link positioned himself on the other side of the thick glass coffee table.

“Uh…sure. You don’t remember that big class-action lawsuit last year? I was one of the joint plaintiffs.”

Of course Link remembered that case. It was the first class-action suit he ever handled, representing hundreds of small businesses all over the city against a prominent investment firm’s embezzlement scheme. The case received a copious amount of media coverage. The whole legal team answered numerous interview questions over the phone and during rushed lunch hours. Link himself was even invited to appear on a well-known talk show. But they paid for the recognition with hard work. Link could almost see the hundreds of pages of research notes flash behind his eyelids. Just learning the complex transaction process itself took him tens of hour of over-time work, let alone preparing to explain it in legal terms to judges and jury members equally foreign to the unfathomable world of finance. Thankfully the facts of each individual complaint was similar enough to be joined together, but with a total of 289 plaintiffs, Link could hardly recall all the names of the businesses, let alone the multitude of affected individuals in each establishment.

“Right, of course I remember. How was the enforcement of judgment? Did your company receive the due damages?”

“Huh?” The dumbfounded confusion on the man’s face almost spiked Link’s suspicion, but he quickly continued, “oh, yeah, yeah. It’s…it’s all good. My manager asked me to thank you again on his behalf. But…uh…we were hoping maybe you could help us with something else?”

“Of course. What’s the issue?” Link bloomed into a professional smile and made a mental note to re-iterate to Chase that proper in-take procedure called for a full inquiry of the clients’ purpose of visit. Whether the kid already found him intimidating or not, the job needed to be done right.

“So…uh…you see we have this Korean fella working for us, real nice guy, works so hard, everybody likes him, you know? But…uh…we didn’t know until last week that he came here on a tourist visa that expired years ago, and he’s been undocumented this whole time. Like, he never left the country the last couple years and never had a problem with the law you know? But uh…the guy’s dad is in real bad shape back home and he feels like he should go back to Korea and visit him before…you know, god forbid things really go downhill, you know what I mean? But the problem is, he’s got a daughter here, and if he leaves the country undocumented, what if he can’t come back? The kid’s gonna be without a dad, you see? So we…we just wanna help the guy. Like…he worked for us for…going on five years now? And we as a company pay taxes and everything and…that’s gotta count for something, right? Plus there’s the kid…”

“Right, yes. I understand the difficulty of the situation.” Link sensed the client’s train of thought tangling into a loop, and quickly cut in. “However although we are a general practice firm, we don’t have an immigration law department. When we receive inquiries like this we usually refer them to our colleagues at Arent Fox. If you could wait here for a moment, I’ll get you a print-out of their contact information and a list of documents that their immigration lawyers might recommend you to prepare before a consultation. If you’ll excuse me for one second, I’ll be right back.”

With a polite smile Link stood up and left the consultation room. Of course, he was not there to see that as soon as he turned a corner down the hallway, Ted pulled a bulky spyware out of his severely frayed leather messenger bag sagging on the couch. On the screen of the palm-sized device flashed a message in green:

CLONING COMPLETE

Nervously he plundered the device to the bottom of the bag and fumbled around until he found his phone. He scrolled through his contacts list with unsteady fingers and dialed “Mirabel Caelin.”

“Uh…hey…so…I saw the Link Neal guy and I wasn’t sure if he had his phone on him, but the cloning thing said it’s complete so…is that…is that good?”

“Well done, Ted.” A flirtatious female voice rang clear at the other end of the line. “I’m glad I didn’t completely waste my time on you. Just turn it off and bring it to the address I gave you. Be there at 11:30. Did anybody there suspect you?”

“Uh…I don’t think so.” Ted walked to the entrance and poked his head back and forth into the hallway. “The Neal guy is not back yet and there’s nobody in the hallway.”

“Are you still there?” The female voice was angrily incredulous.

“Yeah I—”

“Get out of the fucking law firm Ted!!”

“Oh. Right, right.” Ted yanked the messenger bag into his hand and dashed through the entrance, almost hitting the glass panels on the sides. “So I’ll see you at…hello?”

The recipient of his call had already hung up. The bulky man rushed through the hallway, darting his eyes towards the sporadic black suits striding in determined directions without sparing him a second glance.

And of course, when Link returned to the consultation room with a polite smile in place and a stack of helpful information in hand, only the empty space was waiting for him. And when he finally looked at his phone again at 9pm that night, after just another 11-hour work day, he didn’t notice a single thing out of place.

With his long, thin legs folded into a crisscross on the mattress, he contemplated the name “Chris Aidan” idling in the middle of his contacts list and anxiously scraped his knuckles against his palm. They haven’t spoken since he called last Friday early morning to confirm that his flight had landed. He was eager to know how the young Brit was handling the unfamiliar state, but as always, the significant age difference always made him more sensitive about giving the punk kid his space. However the confusing erotic dream, the holed-in weekend and the ever-growing tension regarding his trusted mentee made him purse his lips in chagrin and ache for some company from his spunky lover. He tried to factor in the three-hour time difference to help him make a decision, but decided that it was neither here nor there. A quick tap later he was listening to the dial tone and drumming his fingertips on the mattress like an impatient teenager.

He barely noticed his fingers growing more hesitant and his teeth sinking harder into his lip as the dial tone droned on. But an eternal minute later, the call was picked up.

“Liiink! Hey!”

“Hey babe.” Link took in the deafening dance music in the background and Chris’ slurred speech, and felt his heart sinking incrementally. This might not be a good time after all. “So…how are you getting on with uh…Caali-faw-nia?” He teased with an emulated British accent, without realizing that it was more an effort to lighten his own disquiet mood.

“It’s e-pic! Mmm.” Link waited through the unexplained pause and listened to the other man gulping down more of his presumably alcoholic beverage. “The record company has got this kick-ass house waiting for us and ever since we got here it’s been party nonstop!! Hey! Niall! Niall!!” Another pause, and all Link could hear was the screaming music. With a frown he scooted backwards on the bed and repositioned himself against the pillows, huddling his knees to his chest. “Niall! Hey love. Come tell Link how epic it is!”

“It’s foo-cking EPIC!! WOO!” Link had to hold his phone away from his ear and physically cringe from the heavily accented shriek. He heard the two pairs of lips on the other end of the line crushing together with inebriated moans, and clamped his shaky thumb between his teeth. Knowing about his lover’s alternative amorous arrangements did nothing to ease the sore pressure clenching his chest.

“That’s great Chris. Did you find out more about what their plan is for you?”

All he heard was drunken giggles and wet pops of lips pulling away from skin.

“Chris? Chris, are you still there?” Link bit back the numbing ache in his chest that threatened his sense of self-respect and continued with a stiff voice.

“Hmm? Yeah yeah. What were you saying babe?”

“Do you know what the company’s plans are for you? Like…how long is your trip gonna be?”

“Oh. Um…well I meant to…talk to you—Niall, just wait, alright? Just wait a fucking second!” Another pause followed by unintelligible mumbles on the other end of the line that sounded like more profanities, but the Brit finally pulled his attention back to the phone. “Babe I don’t think I’m coming back to New York.”

Link took a second to process the simple sentence, and found it hard to accept that it could mean what he feared it meant.

“What do you mean you’re not coming back?”

“Like…I think we’re just gonna live here, my band, here in LA!”

“Chris, you’ve been there for four days, are you sure you’re ready to make a decision this big?”

 _And we’ve been together for a year now_ , Link thought, fighting the slowly expanding spark of pain, _doesn’t that count for anything?_

“Link…” a long, exaggerated exhale, “you’re _really_ hot and you have no idea how much I like being with you but…this is the opportunity of a lifetime babe! The fucking heart of the music industry is here, and…this is my life! I should be here. I _need_ to be here!”

Link felt his mind go blank. In the interim of their mutual silence, a partygoer in the background screamed something that sounded like “save rock and roll”, and the crowd responded with a deafening cheer. To the attorney’s sensitive ears, it sounded like a pointed mockery of his feeling in that very moment.

“Oh…so I guess…this is _it_ for us huh?”

When he finished saying that sentence, his own voice sounded as surreal as the echo of his imagination. 

“Babe…” Link listened to the dismay in the other man’s raspy voice, feeling as if he was watching the life story of someone else unfold, while trying to decide if he should feel good about himself that his soon to be ex-lover still harbored attachment towards him. “Hey maybe you could work here too, like be our band’s lawyer?”

“Chris, your record company most likely already has lawyers on retainer for you. It’s neither your call nor mine who gets to represent you legally.”

“Oh. But…you can find other work in LA if you want to, yeah?”

“All my professional connections are in New York, Chris. I know how to work with the prosecutors and judges here. It’s not a good idea to abandon all that and start from zero in a whole other jurisdiction.”

“Aww. I’m sorry babe. Hey, you can pop over here and visit when you’re free, maybe?”

Link felt simultaneously amazed and offended that after a year of intimate relationship, the boyish artist was still oblivious of how demanding his professional schedule was.

“Chris…it would be extremely difficult for me to find time to fly across the country.”

“Oh.” Link listened to his lover’s tongue-tied silence that gave way to the booming noise and ecstatic crowd. He was suddenly gripped by a reflexive urge to flee, like a man who realized that he would only be sinking deeper into a marsh if he didn’t take action. He couldn’t lose the last chance to salvage his dignity.   

“Listen, Chris, if you think this is the right opportunity, then take it. I um…” he paused to take a deep, shuddering breath, “our time together was great and…I wish you all the best in California, ok?”

“OK love. Um…hey if I stop by New York in the future I’ll hit you up, yeah?”

Link’s eyes went round. He started to question whether the other man comprehended the implied connotation of finality. But he was too exhausted to spell out exactly what a “break-up” meant. He simply mumbled “ok” and ended the call.

He unclenched his fingers and let his phone fall unto the mattress.

So there went the prospect of company, easy smiles, passionate kisses, and intimate pleasure. There went the carefree giddiness of expecting some thrill after a drilling work day, and knowing that he could enjoy himself without physical or emotional pain. There went a year of compromises, carefully chosen words, and the timid dream that the fiery passion they shared could one day turn into something more.

All he knew was some kind of numbness. He was standing in front of an open cupboard where a lone bottle of barely consumed gin and two mismatched shot glasses stared back at him. He twisted open the solution to his pain, hoping that it would also anesthetize the petulant tears that constantly threatened to well up in a scheme to embarrass and disappoint himself.

Three refills later, he was feeling a pleasant lightness, staring at the vibrant bouquet on his counter boasting pristine white petals adorned with gildings of blood. He had an idea.

 

* * * * *

 

He was in the middle of a song when the whiff of elderflower struck him.

The rush of edginess and excitement made him miss an entire line in the simple chorus. He kept his eyes on his guitar, too nervous to glance at the entrance and greet the man of his dreams. Thankfully his audience seemed too invested in their own chitchats and mobile devices to frown at the performer’s blunder. He focused on the meaning of the lyrics and tried to pull himself back into the world within the song. He almost succeeded, but a bobble of dark wavy hair at the corner of his eye made him look up against his best efforts. The slim brunet sat down at the only empty table right next to the stage and faced the singer straight-on. He looked straight into the dark olive eyes’ infatuated gaze. To Rhett’s utter shock, Link responded with a bold, unequivocal wink and a lopsided smile.

_What’s going on?_

Rhett didn’t realize he was wearing a dumbfounded frown until he heard the silence of his guitar. Slightly frazzled, he quickly put his stunned fingers back to the strings and recited the rest of the lyrics to the melody. He finally relaxed from the flustered tension when he heard his percussionist struck the last beat.

That’s when he noticed the strange hint of pine on Link’s scent. It was not unpleasant, but unfamiliar. While he was contemplating the brunet’s sluggish limbs and bleary glances, a waitress sauntered to his side. The gentle voice responded to her question with the words “old-fashioned.”

The singer’s confusion grew thicker. Why would the disciplined professional deviate from his usual safe choice of a diluted highball and ask for such a strong drink so late on a weeknight, especially when he already seemed intoxicated? And it wasn’t until a soft whisper from his pianist reminding him to announce the next song that he remembered he was still on stage. The vampire quickly cleared his throat, disappointed at himself for the unreasonable distraction.   

“Alright guys, for the finale of our Bonnie Raitt tribute tonight, we’re gonna do a slow song. This one is the definition of a classic, a lot of talented artists have put their spin on it. It’s a number that’s always been good to us. Ladies and gentlemen, this is _I Can’t Make Your Love Me_.”

The vampire gently set down his guitar, and looked to the svelte blond woman behind the piano and the small-statured dark-haired man behind the electronic percussion set. Both of his band members gave him nods of confidence. The percussionist set off the song with two firm taps on the sense pads, and the pianist’s slender fingers joined in seamlessly. Rhett took comfort in the flowing melody and put his bearded lips slightly closer to the microphone.

“Turn down the lights  
Turn down the bed  
Turn down these voices  
Inside my head  
Lay down with me  
Tell me no lies  
Just hold me closely  
Don't patronize  
Don't patronize me  
  
Cause I can't make you love me if you don't  
You can't make your heart feel  
Somethin' that it won't  
And here in the dark, in these final hours  
I will lay down my heart  
And I’ll feel the power but you won't  
No you won't  
'Cause I can't make you love me  
When you don't  
When you don't  
  
I'll close my eyes  
'Cause then I won't see  
The love you don't feel  
When you're home with me  
Morning will come  
And I'll do what's right  
Just give me till then  
To give up this fight  
And I will give up this fight  
  
'Cause I can't make you love me if you don't  
You can't make your heart feel  
Somethin' that it won't  
And here in the dark, in these final hours  
I will lay down my heart  
I will feel the power but you won't  
No you won't  
'Cause I can't make you love me  
If you don't…”

He felt a wistful pang when he realized he had sang the last word. He opened his eyes and let himself luxuriate in the harmony between the lingering notes of the piano and the whisper soft beats of the electronic drums. As if responding to a magnetic pull, his gaze sought the pair of clear blue eyes. He could have sworn he felt a tug in his immortal heart when he noticed a sorrowful shimmer in the twin glacial lakes. Some time while he was losing himself in the song, a glass of amber beverage had appeared between the brunet’s slender hands. His languid fingers mindlessly swiped at the condensation dewing on the glass. Suddenly, his sad eyes flicked towards the staring vampire. He bloomed in a teary smile. Rhett watched with concern as he raised the glass in a silent toast and pressed to his lips. The force with which he tossed the pungent liquor down his throat made Rhett wince.

“Rhett!”

A hushed whisper came from his pianist and pulled him back into reality. The music had concluded a while ago and he had simply been gaping at the lone patron in dark dress slacks and a pale blue button-down with rolled sleeves. He quickly turned back to the microphone.

“Alright, so…that concludes our performance tonight. Once again, a million thanks to Stevie on the piano!”

The charismatic singer gestured to the svelte lady with silky blonde hair. She took off her black fedora and drew a flourish in the air with a sweet smile. The crowd cheered and applauded warmly.

“And Ben on the…magic drums!”

The small, boyishly handsome percussionist with closely cropped hair burst into laughter with the audience. He theatrically swiped his hand above the sense pads, and a hollow, rippling sound wave echoed through the air. The intrigued crowd responded with excited catcalls and more applause.

“And thank you to all of you! Have a great evening!”

Following a brisk wave the singer abandoned the microphone and agilely leapt off stage. The applause hasn’t fully ebbed when he sat down next to Link, oblivious to the curious stares and whispers from the surrounding patrons.

“That was beautiful.” Said the brunet in that buttery soft voice. He smiled through sluggish blinks.

“Thank you Link.” The vampire replied while his worried eyes darted back and forth between the human’s slack cheeks and the stocky glass on the table with nothing left but an enormous ice cube and a limp twist of orange peel. “I thought Tom Collins was your favorite.” The blond smiled tentatively, searching for a conversational entry point that didn’t seem interrogative, while curiosity and concern burned in his mind, urging him to find out exactly what was wrong.

“That one’s good. I l-love how the gin hides the lemon.” The brunet slurred with a toothy smile. “But…it…it doesn’t do…the _thing_. It just tastes good.” Link gestured aimless circles into the air, punctuating his statement with an exaggerated shrug and creased brow. “But this…,” he pointed at the empty glass, “this is the _shit_. Whoever that…uh…fancy ass French alchem…mist that said… ‘the dose makes the poison’. That’s the…the _shit_.” He rambled, slicing his limp finger through the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Rhett saw the waitress walking towards them. The brunet proudly raised the drained glass to her with a meaningful smile.

“Link, are you sure…”

“Another please.”

Before the vampire lodged his protest, the waitress had swiftly collected the glass and was on her way to the bartender.

“Link, can I ask why you are drinking so heavily on a weeknight?” Rhett blurted out and anxiously flicked his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Well, a twink dumped me over the phone. How wa…s’your weeknight?”

“A…what? Link, what exactly happened?”

“Chris. He’s uh…” The stammering brunet shrugged with a theatrical toss of his hands, “he’s ditching New York for California. Me being…part of New York, is…hence…naturally…ditched.”

“Link, I…I’m sorry to hear that.” When he got past the surprise, Rhett knew that having the unpleasant Brit out of Link’s life was in his interest—in Link’s too, as far as he was concerned—but he could hardly see past the heartbroken blue eyes that made it impossible to think. Finding perspective was as difficult as detangling the pungent note of whiskey and the chilling pine scent of gin from the light and delicate aroma that meant “Link” to the vampire. He struggled through tangled thoughts, and decided to start with offering some supportive sentiment.

“That was a terrible thing for him to do. A rash decision to move across the country is no excuse to abandon one’s commitment to their partner.”

The drunken brunet’s eyelids drooped heavily as he made an effort to smile.

“What’s ‘rash’ when you’re twenty-four, hmm? That’s when it…only makes sense to tell the old guy…” he jammed his index fingers into his chest with so much force that it made him wince, “…to fuck off and go have fun with people…your own age.”

His other hand made a dismissive twirl and fell onto the hard surface of the table, landing right on the knuckles. The vampire gently picked it up and held it between his own. A cool thumb ghosted over Link’s skin while the vampire bore his gaze into the table.

“Link, I know this sounds like the oldest cliché but…you deserve so much better than to be betrayed by an irrational and irresponsible man.”

The brunet lifted his slightly unruly eyebrows while the corners of his lips drooped in resignation. “I’preciate the moral support but…you don’t know…what betrayal is. I’ve been fucking betrayed. It’s…it’s not that. Chris didn’t sell me out. I was just…kidding myself, you know? How can I blame him when it’s over if it’s…my fault I kept mixing up what it was with…what I wanted it to be?”

Rhett scrutinized the aimless, glistening blue eyes with a confused frown. It boggled his mind to imagine anyone who received affection from a man as beautiful and kind as the one sitting opposite him to not repay with twice the devotion. It became harder to focus when he also had to fight the burgeoning impulse to track down the man who had broken Link’s heart and tear him to pieces. While his mind was mired in conflicts, the waitress seamlessly slid another glass of liquor onto the table. When Rhett caught up with the need to protest, it was too late. The brunet had already snatched it up and thrown half of the amber liquid down his throat.

“I’m just one of his…his fuck boys, or whatever kids say these days,” his lip curled sluggishly in an ironic smile that slowly gave way to the returning melancholy. “He’ll be fine without me. He’s got Niall there in California with him, and…you know, others.”

“He cheated on you?” Rhett’s nostrils flared and his fangs threatened to spring out at any second.

“No it’s not…cheating.” Link waved a lethargic dismiss. “He told me…out front. He said I was always welcome to join them during…you know. But…the idea kinda…freaked me out, to be honest. I’m just old-fashioned I guess.” The drunken brunet snickered while raising his glass of sweetened whiskey, apparently proud of his pun.

“Link, no.” The vampire’s enormous, inhumanly strong hand flew over the top of the glass and pressed it back onto the table with an audible thump. A few customers around them turned their heads to the disturbance, but quickly went back to tending their own business. “Don’t damage your body because of someone who’s not worth your time.”

The brunet’s large, glistening eyes staring back at him made him unable to think of anything but a kicked puppy. He instantly regretted the snide comment.

“He was a whole year of my life, Rhett. He’s…a gorgeous rock star. I’m a thirty-seven year old paper pusher. Who the fuck am I to ask for more than what he can give?”

“You, Link, are the most stunning man I have ever seen.” Rhett took his hand away from the brim of the glass and pried the brunet’s fingers away from the liquor to hold them between his hands. “You’re compassionate, intelligent and talented, and you should be questioning whether someone is worthy of _you_ , not the other way around.”

The brunet froze with his mouth agape. Rhett could almost see the emotions warring in those shimmering blue eyes. But to his surprise, the inebriated man dissolved into a flighty smile.

“You _like_ me.” Link raised an unsteady index finger and pressed it on the tip of Rhett’s nose. The heat from his touch lingered on the vampire’s skin after he pulled away. The aroma of his blood also dissipated from the proximity of his veins, and remained a stubborn temptation stuck in the vampire’s nostrils. The shock numbed Rhett’s grip and the brunet’s fingers escaped. He dragged a feather-light touch all over the vampire’s hand. For a second, the blond completely lost the ability to think. “I had this dream and you—ahaha…” the brunet burst into raucous laughter, “you fucked me right there on that pool table.”

Rhett thought he heard a ringing in his ears. Link’s words were not unheard by the other patrons. Quite a few heads turned towards them with scandalized incredulity. Rhett couldn’t care less about the hand-over-mouth giggles from the strangers while his chest burned from the guilty knowledge that the erotic dream was a side effect of his blood that he had sneaked into Link’s coffee last Thursday to heal his chest. For quite a few seconds, his mind was held hostage by the panic that Link might find out what he had done.

“Hey…hey…”

Before he could recover, the brunet’s scorching hand started roaming from his hand to his face, weakly swiping at his bearded chin. The soft fingers drew a sloppy trail down his neck and lightly scraped at his chest. It was becoming impossible for the vampire to contain himself.

“Wanna go back to my place? There’s no one else there. You can pin me to my wall all you want, hmm? Just…have some fun with me.”

The languid hand was traveling dangerously low. Rhett caught it before it could surpass his belly button through his mossy-green linen shirt.

“Link, please. Think about what you’re doing.”

The pleasure center of his brain screamed at him for having said the most moronic thing ever and wouldn’t let go of Link’s mention of “pool table”. But if he wasn’t that much stronger than his primal desires, the majestic being would never have survived the last century. Firmly but gently, he restrained the intoxicated hands from using that maddening touch to bring his body to a point of no return.

“Don’t you want me?” Link whined softly. That small voice of insecure hesitation and the quivering, beseeching eyebrows made Rhett want to throw himself around the thin body and coo each and every detail of his desire into the smaller man’s ears. But if he did, if he were to simply follow his desire, he feared that he would never be anything more than a moment of weakness to the one person that he wanted to have and to hold.

“Of course I do.” He told the ultimate truth to the one person that mattered, and the relief that washed over him was euphoric. “But…if you really want to be with me, I need you to tell me so when you’re sober.” Despite every inch of his body screaming otherwise, he kept a firm tone of determination.

“But…I just…I just want…” Link’s hand easily pulled out of the vampire’s gentle hold and landed softly on the taller man’s thigh. Rhett reflexively clamped down on the man’s thin wrist.

“Link…stop. Stop asking me to take advantage of you while you’re intoxicated and emotionally vulnerable. Why would you even assume that I would ever do such a thing anyway?”

The brunet’s slanted eyebrows quivered while he gaped at the vampire. A twinge gripped him from the inside. He instantly regretted the harsh words, but he knew that if he didn’t stand by his principles, he would never earn respect from the man he cared for after he breaks free from the influence of alcohol. Link yanked against his hold. He wasn’t going to relent until he saw the obvious look of pain on the brunet’s face and realized that he completely forgot to refrain from using his full strength. With a gasp he unclenched his fingers, and Link flinched away from his body.

The quivering eyebrows knitted together and the moisture that’s been shimmering in those blue eyes all night finally crystalized and slid down the human’s smooth cheeks in a free-fall. Link twisted his wrist in his palm a few times in complete silence before wordlessly reaching for his wallet in his back pocket. He clawed at the content until he pulled out two twenty-dollar bills and tossed them on the table. He leaned heavily into his hands to push himself out of his seat, and started stumbling towards the entrance of the bar.

Rhett was briefly paralyzed by the pang of guilt and regret before he realized the brunet’s safety was at issue. He sprinted out behind him in a flash.

“Link.” A few heartbeats later, the vampire has positioned himself in front of the human without missing a single breath. “How are you getting home?”

“Subway.” The belligerent blue eyes glanced at him and quickly looked away.

“That might not be the best idea right now. Let me take you back.”

“No.” Link mumbled and proceeded to walk towards the subway entrance.

“Link, I can get you home much faster if you just let me—”

“I don’t wanna be carried through Manhattan like a big fucking baby!” The human interjected. Rhett swallowed the hurt feelings and decided the inebriated brunet was not thinking clearly enough to be reasoned with.

“Fine. I’ll take the subway with you, ok? I can’t let you be drunk and alone in there.”

The brunet gaped at him, perhaps realized that he did not leave room for argument in that sentence. He sighed and mumbled “fine”, his tone already softened.

Moment later they were sitting next to each other on a hard metal bench listening to the loud clinks of the train. Link started nodding forward more and more heavily. Rhett glanced at him frequently, fearing the vibration of the train would throw the slim, half-conscious body out of his seat. But before long, he rocked backwards and his head lolled onto the blond’s shoulder. The vampire sat as still as he could manage, taking comfort in the heat and weight on his shoulder, enjoying the familiar scent that he had been dreaming about, and fighting the tantalizing aroma wafting from the man’s delicate veins.

Half an hour later, the musician had a limp arm dangled around his shoulders and a slim body propped against him, dragging towards Link’s door. He helped the lethargic brunet with the key and security code, surprised that the practically sleep-walking human remembered to verbally invite him in. He stopped by the kitchen to coax a full glass of water past the numb lips, taking a second to let his heart be warmed by the sight of the bouquet he had gifted blooming vibrantly under the brunet’s care. The hydration seemed to have rejuvenated the brunet enough so he could handle himself in the bathroom. Moments’ later, he re-emerged with a heavy-lidded smile.

“Hey…look…you did come home with me.” The brunet stumbled forward and slammed himself against Rhett’s chest. His fingers walked up the vampire’s broad back in stumbling steps. The dark olive eyes watched nervously as the brunet puckered his plump lips with hooded eyes, plunging right towards the taller man’s neck.

“Link, no.” Against the desire of every cell in his immortal body, Rhett clamped his large hands on the smaller man’s biceps and held him at forearm’s length. “Please, don’t make this more difficult. I don’t want you to do something you might regret in the morning.”

Link sighed. The look of defeat on that delicate face broke the vampire’s heart.

“Get a good night’s sleep Link. If you need to talk tomorrow, I’m always happy to listen, okay?”

The human turned his face towards the floor with a disheartened nod. A slender hand flew up and briskly wiped at his cheek, followed by a sniffle. His distress rendered the tall blond defenseless. He rushed forward and gathered the teary-eyed man in his embrace. He allowed himself a soft rake through the dark brown hair and a quick, chaste kiss on his crown.

It was time to pull away. He knew if he stayed like this, every last stitch of reserve in his mind would dissolve like a single drop of blood into a roaring current. He pried his own arms away from Link’s body and left one last comforting pet down his arms.

“Good night Link.”

He turned around. Every step that took him further from the heartbroken man behind him was as difficult as pulling against gravity. But he didn’t get far when a scorching hand restrained his wrist.

“Can you stay?”

With a soft sigh he turned around, unsure if he can argue for his denial one more time.

“Not to…you know,” as if the drunken man could see the conflict in his mind, he quickly interjected, “just…can you stay here? I…I feel really safe with you and…I just…I don’t think I’m ready to be alone.”

And that was all it took to melt the vampire’s defense.

“I understand.” He said. “I can stay on the couch until I need to go home before sunrise.”

The human hesitated, staring with a frown at his thumb softly rubbing Rhett’s knuckles.

“I mean…can you be…in my bed? I won’t try anything, I promise. Just…can you be next to me?”

Rhett looked into the shimmering, pleading blue eyes. When a man so courageous as to stand against a vicious crime family bared his vulnerability so completely, it was that much more heart-breaking. And that was when it clicked in Rhett’s mind. That was his dream—it was Link’s pillow under his cheek. Being next to the brunet in his bed had always been the inevitable future.

“Okay. Go ahead and change, and let me know when you’re ready.”

For the first time in the entire evening, the beautiful human bloomed into a whole-hearted smile. Rhett couldn’t help mirroring the expression, trying not to dwell too much on the thrilling prospect of laying in the same bed with him.

A moment later, the tousle of raven hair re-emerged. Wearing an off-white undershirt and grey plaid boxers, the brunet pulled the vampire into his bedroom.

Rhett briefly admired the stylishly exposed brick walls, the narrow but floor-length windows, the antique-style apothecary table with a meticulous label on each drawer and a matching armchair in the corner. His eyes fell on the impressive expanse of the king-sized bed in the center of the room, warmly lit by an elegant wrought iron lamp.

“You like it?” Still sluggish from the alcohol, the brunet clambered into the inviting bed and stared at the vampire with a drunken tease in his eyes.

“You have a lovely bedroom.” He said softly, suppressing the confused surges of desire from being in such an intimate setting with the man he was lusting after beckoning him towards his bed with his eyes. He sank his sharp teeth into his bottom lip and awkwardly stuffed his hands into his pockets. If he had a human heart, it would have been beating out of his chest right this very moment.

“Come on, Rhett. I promised I won’t do anything.”

The irony made him want to chuckle. It almost sounded like Rhett was the one intoxicated and unable to fend off inappropriate advances. With a smile he positioned himself next to Link, staying fulling dressed and above the covers.

“If you need anything, I’m right here.”

Link giggled to the factual statement, and the sound made the vampire happier than he had been in months.

“Sweet dreams.” He said softly.

The brunet wiggled his slack body under the sheets a few times. He looked up at the vampire’s face through heavy blinks. Rhett could see his eyes gaining clarity while the alcohol was gradually wearing off with time. Right now, they were shining with a warm sincerity.

“Thank you, Rhett.” He said with a slight rasp.

That genuine look of gratitude made the vampire realize that he would have gladly traded his life for this man’s safety. He smiled.

“Anytime, Link.”

With a small, content sigh the brunet turned his body to face the other way. He reached out his long arm and turned off the lamp. The room was plunged into darkness, but Rhett’s acute eyes immediately recognized the déjà vu of his dream. He traced the beautiful silhouette of that thin but masculine body, finding it exponentially harder to keep his hands away when that body was no longer a dream but an aromatic, radiating reality. _Just one touch_ , he thought, again and again. But he knew that his fingers would never stop at his prominent shoulder. They would glide onto his chest and slowly tug the sheets away. They would gently but firmly turn the sleeping man onto his back, and he would swing his leg over and straddle his narrow hips. Link would open his beautiful blue eyes and welcome his body with a satisfied smile. He would gently swing himself against the smaller man’s groin while the human cooed scandalous whispers into his ear with that buttery voice pressed raspy and low. The need would smolder until it ignites, and it would all be too much until he _had_ him in the most intimate way. It would reduce him to a lustful, primal beast, and his fangs would pierce the human’s delicious neck.

And that was enough to stop his wandering thoughts cold in its track. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the ceiling instead of the delicious veins masked by the soft curls of Link’s hair. He meditated to the human’s rhythmic heartbeat and breathing, and reminded himself over and over that he could never risk losing that.

After an indeterminable amount of time, the dreaming man stirred and turned to face the vampire with his eyes roaming under closed lids. A thin, strong arm swung across Rhett’s body and curled back, pinning the strong vampire in an unyielding side-hug while the unconscious body inched under the sheets towards the fully dressed blond. Rhett froze.

“Babe, don’t go.”

As much as the astute vampire wanted the whisper to be the confession of longing that he yearned to hear, it broke his heart to realize that the term of endearment must not be referring to him.

And then the dreaming brunet whispered the name “Chris”.

 

[ _[I Can't Make You Love Me--Bonnie Raitt]_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nW9Cu6GYqxo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, I don't know if Stevie or Ben plays musical instruments. But like I tagged, this is RPF so the crew also have alternative roles in this AU ^_^ As always let me know what you think of the story, the supporting characters, etc. See you in the next one!


	6. My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark--Verse I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so LONG!!! I know, I miss you guys too! I've been taking classes and working full time the whole summer, and fall semester starts on Monday...eesh. I sincerely hope the next update wouldn't take so long. But anyway, this chapter refers heavily to the set-up in Chapter 3 (all the previous chapters are relevant of course, but most of the details of the mystery is in Chapter 3), so take a look if you need! If you are still confused, don't hesitate to ask me in the comments. I'll answer everything that won't spoil the proceeding plot!!

_Be careful making wishes in the dark_  
_Can't be sure when they've hit their mark_  
_And besides in the mean, mean time_  
_I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart_

_I'm in the details with the devil_  
_So now the world can never get me on my level_  
_I just gotta get you off the cage_  
_I'm a young lover's rage_  
_Gonna need a spark to ignite_

—Fall Out Boy, “[My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkIWmsP3c_s)”

 

Why does pleasure have to be so agonizing?

The blond vampire stared at the ceiling, feeling helpless and desperate against his primal blood thirst. His mind had already mapped out each delicate blood vessel in Link’s body. He could almost hear the delicious crimson coursing through the brachial artery down the length of the well-toned arm slung across his chest, pressing one of the buttons on his mossy green shirt into his skin. Even more difficult to ignore was the fact that his jugular was just a head turn away.

But compared to the sheer _lust_ , his blood thirst was far more easily held back by reason. He could never hurt Link, of course; that would be like going against his very nature, like willing walking into the sun. But to touch him? To trace his fingertips along his arm, to cup his palm over his toned shoulders for just one second, to press his hand on his shoulder blade and pull him closer, to kiss his hair, his temple, his…

Rhett closed his eyes. The longer the night dragged on, the more difficult it was to hold on to his fabricated rationale that it was best to deny the drunken human’s advances. He kept telling himself that giving in would bear the risk of making himself a regret in Link’s mind, but that was assuming that the other man wasn’t genuinely attracted to him. But if all alcohol did was lower one’s inhibition, wouldn’t Link’s actions imply that he was simply revealing his otherwise suppressed desires? After all, he did practically extend an open invitation to Rhett right after their time alone together in this very apartment. And even before that, he always did wear that slightly flustered smile that drove the vampire out of his mind whenever they interacted. Not to mention that mesmerized look in those big blue eyes when he watched him sing, before he even knew Rhett's real name…

But was he really going to ignore the fact that the brunet just whispered another man’s name?

Rhett opened his eyes and checked the clock on the bedside table again. It was getting dangerously close to sunrise. If he didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t make it back to his house even running at full speed. He sighed quietly, unwilling to leave without a proper goodbye. Well, unwilling to leave at all, if he was completely honest with himself. He would rather scoop the sleeping brunet into his arms and bring him along, set him in _his_ bed and ask how he truly felt about him. But that would be equivalent to kidnapping, and of course contradict the vampire sheriff’s stern principles. Dismayed, he contemplated waking the brunet and explaining why he must excuse himself, but the peaceful complexion was so surreally beautiful that he didn’t dare disturb it. Not to mention the emotional turmoil Link just went through and the physical toll that alcohol must have taken. He concluded that it might be best to depart inconspicuously, and leave a brief text message or note to apologize.

Rhett started carefully sliding to his right, trying to disturb the dreaming man as little as possible. But as soon as he started moving, Link’s arm tightened. Surprised by the force of the flex against his chest, he looked down at the burgeoning muscles straining against the fitted sleeve of the off-white undershirt, marveling at how much that thin frame belied the genteel man’s strength. Link shifted slightly with a soft “hmm” and a happy smile. The vampire had to clench his teeth, given how much excitement just surged towards his lower body. It would be now or never for him to wake the brunet, extricate himself and avoid utter embarrassment. He carefully lifted his hand and patted the rock hard triceps pinning him down. It took all his strength to pull his hand away from the firm skin that felt like warm satin.

“Link,” the blond pushed gently at the unyielding arm, “Link, I have to go.”

The brunet wiggled under the sheets a few times but did not open his eyes.

Rhett sighed and started to pry the strong arm from his chest, trying to be as gentle as possible. A few seconds later, the flexing muscles relaxed and the brunet blinked groggily.

“Rhett?”

The vampire could see the confusion in the blue eyes freshly clear of inebriation. He smiled and offered a comforting pat on Link’s arm.

“It’s okay. You came to the bar and had too much to drink. I had to make sure you came home safely, and you asked me to stay…for a while.”

The blue eyes grew larger. Link knuckled at the corners of his eyes a few times and scrambled to sit up. Rhett quickly moved off the bed so his weight wouldn’t pin down the comforter and trap the smaller man. In a flash he rushed to the other side of the bed and gently put his hand on the confused human’s shoulder.

Link looked up at him like a mortified child.

“I did something stupid didn’t I?”

For a second Rhett feared that by “stupid”, the brunet was referring to the action of asking him to stay. But Link’s glance roamed down his fully clothed body, and quickly cast onto himself. He briskly lifted the covers, peeked under and quickly looked back up at Rhett with an apologetic smile. _So it_ was _a good idea not to take him up on his advances_ , the vampire thought as his heart sank. Otherwise Link would have remembered their first—possibly only—intimate interaction as “something stupid.”

“Oh gosh. I must have ruined your evening. I’m sorry.”

“What? No, not at all,” Rhett said while gently patting the lean shoulder under his palm, “you just ended a relationship, it was absolutely necessary for me to give you some comfort and support.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he saw realization wash over the groggy face like a splash of cold water. The fresh shimmer of pain in those big blue eyes broke his heart all over again.

“Link,” he gently rubbed his thumb over the brunet’s prominent collar bone through the thin cotton, trying to ignore how much it excited his body, “I don’t know how much you remember from our conversation last night but…you’re such an astute person, I think you know my feelings for you by now. I hate to just leave you in the middle of the night like this but…the sun is rising and I have to get out of its way. But if you need someone to talk to, you always know where to find me, right?"

The brunet blinked nervously a few times but quickly nodded. As soon as Rhett reluctantly pulled his hand away from the warm body and started moving towards the living room, Link clambered out of bed and quickly followed behind him on bare feet. They paused at the door, facing each other with a long and silent gaze. Rhett was the first one to smile, but he almost lost his breath when the smaller man threw his long arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you," he mumbled against Rhett's collarbone.

"Anytime Link," the vampire carefully raised his hands while his upper arms were immovably trapped in the passionate embrace, and patted the smaller man on his back, "get some more sleep, your body needs it."

"Okay." Link said while stubbornly lingering around the taller frame for a few more seconds. After he slowly pulled away, Rhett could still feel the heat tattooed on his skin. For a moment he regretted how long his strides were, because it only took him one step to be outside Link's door.

"I hope to see you again soon." He said with a wistful smile and turned away before it became even less feasible to leave.

He didn't remember hearing the door close.

All emotional turmoil aside, it was a great night for a run. The predawn air was pleasantly crisp, bearing no resemblance to the humid heat that would roll back into the city in a matter of hours. Rhett settled into his default rhythm, feeling his body move with an intrinsic choreography. The sidewalk was wonderfully deserted, as were the narrow streets. He darted through the night, letting the dimly lit store fronts glide back in his peripheral vision. But right before he crossed the last street that separated him from his usual entrance to the park, everything stopped. It was as if he hit an invisible wall. The momentum of his body skidded to a halt and his long limbs scrambled to rebalance.

_That. Smell._

The fierce predator within him woke up with a seething rage. His head snapped towards the direction of the targeted prey and his fangs sprang out while a feral growl rumbled in his proud chest. His vision was tainted blood red as he hurled aside all rational thoughts of his destination and the time constraint of impending sunrise. He charged. The scar-faced man half-crouching in the alley photographing the underground entrance to an Italian restaurant had no idea. It felt like a single leap was all it took before Rhett’s broad palm formed a choke hold around the man’s throat and slammed him into the brick wall. The phone in the man’s hand fell and smashed on the ground. The vampire used no mercy with his superhuman strength. In no time the other man’s face started twisting with panic. His lips fell open and his eyes started glazing over. In reflexive defense he raised his hands to claw at Rhett’s arm, but their movements were as limp as a dying leaf in the November gust.

“Artiglio, isn’t it?”

He didn’t need to ask, of course. To a vampire, a sent is as clear and distinctive as DNA. No matter how pungent the interfering factor is, be it rancid sweat or a perfume as potent as a slap in the face, a predator of blood will always know the human’s scent hidden underneath. The man in his iron hold was not quite able to respond to his question anyway. His face was slowly becoming expressionless as his eyes rolled back into his skull. The fierce giant scraped Artiglio’s body against the wall, lifting his weight with one hand to bring the shorter man’s face to his eye level. He roughly pulled his prey’s slack eyelids wider apart, and shot the full hypnotic power of his eyes like laser beams into the other man’s dark irises.

“Who gave you the order to go after Link Neal?”

Artiglio’s lips moved limply a few times, producing no syllables. Reluctantly, Rhett relaxed his grip just enough for the half-conscious body to slide back down the wall and land on his feet. With his large hand forming an iron cage around the man’s throat, he left just enough space for him to breathe a little and speak. But he never expected the three hoarse, breathless words from the already cigarette-burnished voice weakened by the lack of oxygen.

“Fidelity, bravery, integrity.”

Even someone who wasn’t human could recognize the FBI’s slogan anywhere.

“Don’t play games with me, you scum.” Rhett seethed while feeling bewildered as to how the man could consciously subvert his interrogation while under glamour. _He shouldn’t have been able to_. Rhett brought himself just an inch closer to the other man’s eyes while intensifying the invisible force field that allowed him to toy with the human’s mind like putty in his hands.

“Who gave you the order? Answer. _NOW_.” He growled.

“SSA Balor. Mission objective: Grendel. Code: Mariana.”

His intuitions told him that the situation might be a lot more complex than he ever imagined. Hesitantly he removed his choke hold and retracted the glamouring power. The oxygen-deprived man widened his eyes as if waking from a trance. Without the vampire’s hand bracing him, he crashed towards the ground and shot one hand into the wall behind his back for balance. But he still couldn’t stop himself from doubling over. He coughed painfully and breathlessly, covering his throat with one hand. When the agonizing, half-gagged coughing fit finally subsided, Rhett pressed on with his line of questioning.

"What's SSA Balor? Is this...Grendel thing related to the attack on Link Neal?"

The look on Artiglio's face was as if he heard his own death sentence. Evidently, he remembered nothing of what he said under hypnosis. He swiftly tucked his right hand behind his back and reached for his waistband, but the vampire was of course faster. Rhett clamped down on his forearm, and quickly followed with his other hand to subdue the man's left arm in a preemptive grip.

"Unless there's wood in your bullets, you will only hurt yourself with that gun, trust me."

The scar-faced man grimaced with rage and hatred, struggling futilely against the enormous and powerful hands. Rhett kept a smooth mask of apathy and patiently waited for the other man to abandon his efforts out of frustration.

"Fuck!" Artiglio spat angrily, refusing to meet the taller man in the eye. In a few moments he finally relaxed from the aggressive stance, and Rhett removed his hands. The dark eyes flicked back onto the vampire's face with violent indignation.

"You fucking glamoured me, didn't you, fanger? How much do you know?"

"You said and I quote, 'SSA Balor, mission objective Grendel, code Mariana.'"

While Rhett was narrating with ice-cold composure, the other man started to shake visibly. With a bitter frown he slammed a hand over his eyes and roughly pushed past the vampire and took a few steps to the side. Rhett let him, knowing that if he didn't want the other man to get away, there was simply no way that he could. The dark-haired man paced furiously, never ceasing his groans and profanities. Rhett was starting to feel amused, like watching a puny prey throw a tantrum fit. All of a sudden the human pivoted back, strode right towards Rhett and jabbed a finger an inche from his face.

"You, you might have just wrecked the entire fucking mission. Some kinda sheriff you are. What a joke."

Upon hearing the word "sheriff", Rhett immediately tensed. His hands ached for the choke hold again.

"How can you _possibly_ know that I'm the sheriff? Who the hell are you?"

" _I'm_ SSA Balor, as in Senior Supervising Agent, of the Federal fucking Bureau of Investigation. And in case you didn't know, we _investigate_. We keep tabs on all the vampire regional sheriffs in the fucking country for law enforcement purposes. The minute you told Link Neal your real name in the parking garage, I knew who you are. I just never thought you would be the dimwit to ruin everything after five fucking years."

Rhett had to turn the information over twice in his head just to come to acceptance of what he was being told. As a vampire, he never thought his head would spin, until now. While he was reeling from the realization that Link's attacker might not even be his enemy, the newly revealed FBI agent picked up the phone he dropped earlier, glanced at the cracked screen and flat out hurled it against the alley wall. The plastic rectangle bounced off the hard bricks and crashed into the ground in a more thorough state of destruction.

"You...you are an undercover agent?" Rhett asked tentatively, surprised at how much his own baritone lost its usual ringing gravitas.

"Code Mariana, _sheriff_." Artiglio rolled his eyes, sparing none of the sarcastic acrimony in his tone. "Mariana stands for the deepest level of undercover mission. The bureau designed a waterproof rap sheet for me tracing all the way back to juvie records, and blacked out all my official credentials. The police, the prosecutors including Link Neal, even most people working in the fucking FBI headquarters have me on their radar as a legit gang member. And the actual gang members? No matter how deep they dig and whatever database they can possibly hack, they can’t find a single connection between me and FBI because it was all, literally, erased. Only my direct handler knows who I am. And now, unfortunately, _you_."

Strangely, Rhett felt as if the force of the other man's seething rage and the gravity of his interference in the matter are starting to physically burnish his skin. With a confused frown he raised his hands to examine them, and saw an unmistakable red tinge. He might have jeopardized his very survival by letting his rage and impulse control his actions. He would soon be exposed to the one archenemy whose power was so almightily fatal that he had not a prayer of countervailing.

The sun.

 

* * * *

 

It hurt so bad he would rather be unconscious.

With his elbow on either side of his laptop, Link dug his fingers into his temples and rubbed forcefully in futile circles. But of course, the pounding headache was not something a superficial message could alleviate. It would take literally turning back fucking _time_ and undoing the stupid decision of overdrinking on a weeknight. He remembered his writer friend Morgan telling him about creating an episode for a steampunk fantasy show where the heroes used Magellan’s astrolabe to turn back time. _If only_ , he thought. If only he had access to such power, he could have eliminated so much stupidity from his past, not the least of which his actions of the previous night. With much chagrin he realized that if he had ever had a prayer of chance with that beautiful idol of a vampire, his moronic actions last night surely had ruined it. He distinctively remembered seeing a strange look in the vampire’s otherwise warm and attentive eyes, a look that was distant and hesitant, almost like he was…insulted?

But then he did say “I think you know my feelings for you by now”…

While sighing in frustration, he heard footsteps in the hallway rapidly approaching his office and felt a sudden childish urge to duck under his desk with hands over his ears. The sound alone was exacerbating his headache, not to mention the impending need to face another human being and hold a professional conversation. He groaned out loud and cupped his palms over his eyes, careful not to touch his lenses. Without the sound of a knock, he heard his glass door swinging open and someone practically charging inside.

"What the—"

He pulled his hands away from his face and looked up into the bright screen of a sleek tablet, and Brian's worried frown right above it.

"Link, what is this? You forwarded this to me 5 minutes ago."

"Should just be research prompts for the Johnson case." Link said quietly, trying not to turn his own voice into ringing in his ears. But one glance at the sender and subject line, he knew he was dead wrong.

 

[uknowurirresistible@gmail.com](mailto:uknowurirresistible@gmail.com)

 

thinking of you

 

"Link, that looks more like a prompt for a restraining order."

The more lines he read into the email, the ringing in his ears became louder.

 

_Hey baby, it's been so long and it makes me sick how much I miss you. You can't still be mad at me for what happened right? You sure made me pay for it. I thought about you every day when I was in there. I just didn't understand, baby, you were ok, why did you have to ruin my life? We could have been everything. But it doesn't matter now. I finally found you and we can be together again. You didn't forget that you're mine did you? I hope you didn't cheat on me. That would really hurt. Anyway, I'm almost on my way to New York. Tell me where you live so we can be together again, ok? It's all gonna be ok._

"Link, who is that?"

It was all coming back. The pain, the confusion, the self loathe, the feeling that he wasn't worth anything and deserved every punishment. No, he could not go back there.

"Link!"

He jerked his head to Brian's frantic exclamation. He never felt more lost for words in his entire life.

"I...I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?” Brian set the tablet down loudly on Link’s desk. He dug the heels of his palms into the desk and loomed over the seating man. “This is obviously someone who had history with you which ended badly, judging from how they were talking about ‘what happened’ and ‘you can’t still be mad’. And the fact that they said ‘you were ok’ just makes it even more disturbing…”

“Brian—”

“And I don't need you to spell out that 'in there' means prison, and it looks like they are blaming that on you, too. So when someone with that kind of history who obviously holds serious grudge says that they’re coming to New York to find you, it means it’s time to call the police and—”

“Brian, please, just _stop_!” Link snapped impulsively while a surge of pain shot through his temples. It was as if the room was closing in like a force field of pain and crushing his head repeatedly. He propped his head up with defeated hands, wishing the ground below him would crack open and swallow him whole.

“What’s wrong, are you in pain?” Brian’s tone immediately softened, but his piercing gaze did not relent in the slightest. “Is it still the chest injury?”

“No it’s fine it’s just…just a headache.” Link replied in a small, hoarse voice.

“Do you have your pain medication with you? You know, it might be a good idea for you to take the day off and rest up. Plus, there’s whatever _this_ is that needs to be dealt with.”

“Brian, that’s ridiculous, I’m not missing work because of a stupid headache.”

“You have rib fractures, Link. I was there when the doctor said so!”

“That’s fine now.”

“What do you mean, ‘fine’? Those things take a month to heal!”

“I’m just fucking glad that it’s not hurting right now, ok? But if you don’t let this go my head is gonna explode real soon.”

For a brief moment the room was silent, and Link irrationally wished that Brian would have left him. But when he looked up, he saw that not only did the bright green eyes never stop gazing at him, they only grew tenderer and more attentive.

“You know, I’m dealing with the fact that you may never feel the same way about me. It’s next to impossible because I see you every day and I have to learn from you and you’re fucking brilliant, but I’m trying. Really trying. But I thought…we were at least _friends_.”

“Of course we are friends.”

“Then just…please, stop fighting me when I’m only trying to help. I need you to be safe.”

Link sighed softly. Guilt was rising like a burning wave in his chest, eroding his defenses.

“I appreciate that you care about me, Brian. I care about you too. But I _am_ safe.”

The young man’s eyes radiated incredulity, almost to the point of disappointment.

“Take another look at this, Link. It was sent on the same day that you were attacked. First you said it was a random mugging, and then they didn’t take anything despite the fact that they were able to hurt you badly enough that your ribs cracked. And then a _vampire_ just happened to show up. And now, you are telling me that a severe injury which normally takes a month to heal just…doesn’t hurt anymore, and you don’t know who sent this _very_ personal threat?”

In the interim of Link racking his brain for a reconciling explanation, tongue-tied, Brian suddenly rocked back with a frozen expression of realization and horror.

“It’s the same person, isn’t it? This is from whoever attacked you! And you’re trying to—”

“No! No, no. Brian…” Link pinched his nose bridge with a painful grimace. “You’re jumping way too fast to conclusions here.”

Brian cocked his eyebrows up exaggeratedly. “Should I repeat my reasoning that I just finished telling you about?”

“You’re assuming that the email was sent to the correct recipient.” Link pressed on with empty bravado, knowing very well that it _was_. “As suggested by how accidentally it landed in your inbox, it could have just as easily been a mistake that it was sent to me.”

“So you’re telling me there’s never been a bad relationship in your past that might come back to haunt you?”

“I’m not telling you anything.” Link said, determined to bite the figurative bullet. “But even if there was, it doesn’t exclude the possibility that the email was a mistake.”

The hurt and disbelief on his young mentee’s face almost made him come undone. He dodged the young man’s eyes in a silent impasse.

“Okay. Fine.” Brian eventually said in a resigned tone. “I don’t know who you’ve been involved with or what happened or who you’re trying to protect, and I guess I don’t have the right to know. But there is at least a way to find out who sent this. Call Coleman.”

Link finally met the young man’s eyes, hesitating over what to say.

“I have his number too.”

“Okay, I get it. I will call him on my own time, not while I’m at work, alright?”

Brian scrutinized his face for a few more seconds before mumbling “yeah” and picking up his tablet from the desk. Link could see the reluctance in his posture as he walked back towards the door. But just as he was pulling the door open and about to step out, Brian suddenly balked and turned around.

“The singer—Riddle Waltz, he said his real name was Rhett…”

“McLaughlin.”

“Right. He intervened when you were attacked?”

“And he took me to the hospital, why?”

“How did he know where you were?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, did you already know him before…”

“No.”

“So how did he know where to find you?”

“Well it happened in that garage two blocks away from Rumor.”

“But he doesn’t perform on that day. Why would he even have a reason to be in the area?”

“Again, assumptions Brian. You’re assuming he doesn’t just live nearby or go to the bar to hang out with his friends.”

The strawberry-blond nodded shallowly after taking a few seconds to seriously consider Link’s answer. He stepped out the door and turned to face his mentor.

“Promise me you’ll call Coleman, tonight?”

“I will.”

The mentee left him a lingering gaze and walked away.

 

* * * * *

 

“Where are you taking me?”

Rhett carefully observed his surroundings while following the shorter human through the surprisingly well-lit concrete tunnel. Every few yards a shiny black dome would graze the upper right corner of his field of vision, reminding him that his every movement was being captured by the multitude of surveillance cameras. The unpleasant sensation of burnishing heat all over his body was gone as soon as he was ushered into a decrepit looking maintenance station deep within the verdant confines of Central Park. Together they filed through doors and gates of various shapes and sizes, secured with mechanisms ranging from a rusty padlock to numeral passcode panels hidden behind specific concrete tiles that had to be pried open with a pocket knife. The savvy sheriff had been mentally mapping the general direction they were taking, trying to track his underground location in relation to the familiar territory of Central Park. But the more abrupt turns and askew pathways they took, the more he felt unnervingly disoriented. So finally, he couldn’t refrain from voicing his wariness any longer.   

“The bunker, like I’ve told you when we started walking. Jeez, how old _are_ you?”

Artiglio, or rather Senior Supervising Agent Balor, tossed back the retort without even turning his head.

“Old enough to know to never let someone not yet worthy of complete trust have total power over you.”

The head of greasy dark spikes rolled back with an audible, exasperated sigh. Artiglio came to a complete stop and turned around, causing Rhett to almost collide with him.

“Look, I don’t like you, and you don’t have to like me, okay? But I’m a federal agent. I don’t _lynch_ vampires. So if you rather have death by fucking sunburn than following me, exit the same way you came.”

Artiglio jabbed his finger towards the void behind Rhett’s back, extending the full length of his arm, and looked up into Rhett’s eyes with belligerent annoyance. The charismatic vampire held his own and simply stared him down in silence.

“Thought so.” Artiglio took his arm down after a few seconds, turned around and resumed leading the way. Rhett followed without comment, while pondering the way that Artiglio pronounced “vampire” with a hardened “r” that suggested a stereotypical Italian American accent. He wondered if it was a force of habit that formed over extended periods of undercover work with the mafia, or an intrinsic trait that caused him to be selected for the reconnaissance mission in the first place. He didn’t ask.

A few more moments of strained silence later, Rhett finally saw an entrance that looked like it could lead to a room. Artiglio pulled his pocket knife back out and started prying open the rusty cover on some sort of sense pad. He fussed around the mechanism, darted towards the opposite wall to flick a switch, hurried back and awkwardly tugged the bottom of his T-shirt towards the revealed surface to wipe it clean. After a myriad of profanities and repeated motions to closely examine the device—almost touching his nose to it, he hastily wiped his thumb pad a few times on his cargo pants and carefully flattened it onto the apparatus. Rhett could almost see the agent’s anxiety exude from his tense body in palpable fumes. After a few seconds that seemed to have lasted forever, both men heard a shrieking beep, and the heavy door to the room unlocked with a sluggish swing. Artiglio huffed a relieved but impatient sigh and briskly gestured towards Rhett to follow him.

Rhett instinctively ducked under the door frame to avoid scraping his hair against it, and carefully stepped inside. The light from the concrete tunnel was bright enough for the agent to find the various switches on the wall inside the room. After a few flicks the space was flooded with fluorescent light, and a very old fashioned, exposed air conditioning unit in the corner awakened with a loud hum. Rhett also detected a red dot blinking a few times inside another black dome in the upper right corner of the room before disappearing. In the center of the room was a scratched up metal table riveted to the floor with thick pillars, flanked by two odd and narrow metal benches that also seemed to be fastened securely to the floor. In the center of the table was a thick, protruding metal hoop, unsubtly reminding the visitor of its intended purpose of securing restraints. The scar-faced agent, evidently pleased with himself, hurried to the door and forcefully swung it shut. Another metallic shriek followed the loud clink of the door against its frame.

“Are we locked in?” The vampire asked sternly.

“Well yeah, this is a covert FBI debriefing station, not a fucking Starbucks.” Artiglio deadpanned with his back to Rhett and turned on a small, primitive monitor right next to the door frame. A map of the narrow island of Manhattan lit up in abstract green lines while red dots flashed in irregular clusters like unsightly blemishes.

The century-old creature closed his eyes and took a meditative breath to suppress the urge to berate the man’s atrocious manners.

“So the purpose of your leading me here is interrogation?”

“However you wanna think about it. And saving you from bumming around in the subways until sunset. You’re welcome.” Artiglio replied wryly while taking a few steps towards the metal chair. He swung his short legs in place in a practiced ease, but the same action took Rhett a lot more maneuvering with his extraordinarily long legs and high center of gravity. Even after he inserted himself in place, it took quite a few more fidgets to arrange his limbs under and between the riveted furniture. Artiglio watched him with amusement.

“Expecting one of those little folding chairs you see on TV?”

“Well, intuitively, yes.”

“Hmm. I really wish TV producers would stop being fucking dumb. You have any idea how much damage you could do by swinging one of those chairs into someone’s head?” Artiglio huffed disdainfully and shook his head.

Rhett nodded towards the imposing metal loop on the table, “is that even possible with restraints?”

“You know how high class a perp has to be to get sent _here_? Those people are the ones who can _actually_ kill you with a fucking pen. I mean…you never know what’s possible. How is it possible for humans to drink blood and be immortal, huh?”

Rhett couldn’t help chuckling at the jab. “If I knew the answer to that question, I would have been a much more powerful being than I could ever become.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Artiglio pursed his lips and frowned at the vampire’s stylized speech. Suddenly, Rhett remembered the black dome gazing down at him like an ominous iris.

“Am I being videotaped?”

“And sound-recorded, yeah.”

“I never gave consent to that! How could you have any right to do so while I’m not even under arrest—”

“Look, _sheriff_ ,” Artiglio interjected, “did I give consent for you to fucking glamour me and steal confidential intel that could jeopardize the one most important organized crime investigation in the entire New York City? But you did it anyway. What’s stopping you from doing it again and getting more out of me that might get us both killed? I need to know some things from you, and I’m sure you wanna know things too, and from as far as I can tell the only way we can do this civil is on records, ok? Plus there’s only about a handful of people in the entire nation who have access to what gets recorded here. It’s not gonna be put all over the internet, no matter how pretty you think your hair is.”

Rhett glowered at him in momentary silence, questioning why he was submitting his personal freedom to an abrasive ruffian who had broken the bones of the one human who meant the most to him in the world. Not only did he have to re-evaluate his decision to trust him every other second, now he had to endure personal ridicule too?

“I have no reason to believe any of your claims until you give me an acceptable explanation concerning the attack on Link Neal.”

Saying Link’s name in conjunction with the word “attack” was enough to make him shiver with horrifying afterthoughts and simultaneously grit his teeth with anger.

“First you need to tell _me_ the nature of your relationship with Link Neal.”

If only he had the answer to that question, or the power to change it towards what he desired.

“I’m a close personal friend who cares deeply about his safety.”

“And were you a close personal friend back in 2011 when he was working on prosecuting the Genovese 13?”

“Regretfully no. I only got to know him recently.”

“But you’re a _close_ and _personal_ friend.”

Rhett was of course instantly irritated by the man’s disrespectful skepticism and sarcastic tone.

“If a man is truly worthy, it wouldn’t take him long to win a dedicated friend.”

Artiglio folded his arms and leaned slightly back with narrowed eyes. His incredulous stare dragged on in silence, which Rhett instantly understood to be an interrogation tactic to create tension and manipulate the interviewee into involuntarily giving away information they would otherwise have held back. He found it amusing that the other man would think he could contest the patience of a century-old super-human creature. He simply set his elbows firmly on the metal surface, laced his fingers and pressed them to his chin, meeting the other man square in the eyes with a gaze as composed as still water.

A few silent moments later the scar-faced man’s thin lips started to shape into a smirk. He nodded shallowly, seeming to have found a worthy opponent in the fierce vampire.

“How did you become friends?”

“I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

Artiglio made an unpleasant grunt and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Look, if you wanna know about what happened, I need to know how you might be connected to the investigation.”

“Other than a strong personal interest in protecting Link, I am unconcerned.”

“Strong personal interest.” Artiglio leaned forward onto his elbows and stared at Rhett with a mocking smirk. “That sixteenth century talk for wanting to _get_ with the guy?”

The vampire narrowed his mercury eyes with a lethal glare.

“Look, I don’t judge that kind of stuff, ok? My job is to investigate, not to judge. Plus I’m not stupid. What I do care about, is how you ended up in that garage.”

“How did you?” Rhett retorted with ice-cold composure, absent-mindedly flexing his fists.

Artiglio stared back with an irritated frown. But before long, he slouched backwards and cast his eyes on the metal desk with a look of defeat.

“You think I wanna beat up a good guy?”

This time it was Rhett’s turn to use silence as his shrewd tactic.

“You see this?” The agent huffed a short sigh and pointed to his snarly scar. “Fucking skin graft. You’ve probably never wondered how much it’d take to earn the trust of a whole _clan_ of criminals without any history in the same hood. Well, _this_ is how much it fucking takes. Letting a team of doctors wreck your face just so you can tell lies about your own life to gangs of people who each knows 29 different ways to kill you. You tell the same lies so many times that it starts to feel like it’s real, like you’ve actually lived your whole life as a scumbag.” Artiglio roughly scratched his chin in an anxious gesture and swallowed forcefully.

“But Link Neal, that was supposed to be a friendly warning.” The agent paused and scraped at his forehead with the side of his palm. “I heard talk that he might know something…that the gang considered threatening, apparently. He ever told you about Jason Inman?”

“Yes, that was his best friend at the DA’s office.”     

“Right. Apparently Inman found out something about the new boss—if you ask me, not nearly enough info trickles down to my paygrade but word is he was making some real moves on figuring out who the new boss _is_. Speaking of which, that’s what ‘Grendel’ refers to—the ultimate mission, the identity of whoever leads the largest and most powerful crime syndicate in New York City. Even most people in the family don’t know that—it’s a strictly stratified hierarchy, each member only knows whoever ranks directly above and below them. How Inman managed it, I have no idea. Even the family didn’t have definitive word that he knew, but he was getting _way_ too close, so the Genovese acted preemptively.”

“So it _was_ murder.”

“I’ve never had a doubt that it was. Just think about the timing and the MO. It’s almost obvious. And it kills me that I don’t know who did it and I couldn’t divert resources to find out either, because my mission objective is the identity of the new boss, not a suspected murder.”

“Link suspected the same.” Rhett’s voice quickly became quiet and anxious.

“I’m not surprised. I mean, the dude’s a federal prosecutor. Well, at the time he was. From what vague clues I’ve gathered, the mafia leaders knew that they worked together of course, but it took them quite some digging—and time—to figure out how close they actually were. I think they got it in their heads that whatever Inman found out, he told Neal. Especially since the new boss has been gaining more power every day, making moves on all the old opponents and competing families, there’s word that they wanna do something about this situation.”

Rhett froze in horror with the sinking realization that what “they” wanted to “do” with “the situation” might look just like what happened to Jason. If it was any consolation, the agent on the other side of the desk seemed equally distressed with this information.

“I had to stand by and watch it happen once, you know? Not again.” Artiglio knuckled roughly at his eyes that seemed to be twitching with anxiety. “I was already on thin ice—have been since day one when I got in. They call it a crime ‘family’ for a reason, and it was painfully clear that newcomers like me would remain on the peripheral. I couldn’t do a single thing that draws negative attention to me, not a single word that would invite doubt. So I had to sit on this fucking gnawing suspicion listening to their talks and plans. I tried getting word to my handler but I was new at the whole undercover thing to start with, and new inside the organization. Everywhere I turned I felt watched, I was just…useless…”

The undercover agent trailed off, resting his forehead between his thumb and index finger. Rhett thought he saw a tremor in his hand.

“But this time I…I can’t sit around anymore. It’s been five years, I’ve at least earned enough cred to act competitive and ask to be put on the ‘setting straight’ thing. I wanted so bad to go alone—if I could have, I could try figuring out a way to get a warning through to Neal without revealing my identity. But as soon as they ordered me to take ‘back up’, I knew there was no way I could refuse with blowing five years’ work—and however much bureau budget this fucking thing cost.” Artiglio flicked his fingers in a derisive gesture towards the fabricated scar. “But you gotta understand, if I could have gone alone, I would never have hurt the guy. But with their goons watching me,” the agent shook his head in frustration, “at least I was able to take the lead, so if I didn’t draw my weapon, they wouldn’t have either.”

Rhett contemplated the narration, feeling increasingly horrified by what _could_ have happened. But his festering apprehension was suddenly interrupted by a siren-like urgent beeping that came from the monitor by the door. Rhett turned his attention to the screen and saw a red dot much larger than the rest flashing like an ominous beacon on the bank of the East River. He was simultaneously confused by the number “419” above it and alarmed by the proximity of the dot to the estimated location of his home on the Manhattan map. He saw that Artiglio also glanced at the monitor. Upon seeing the same message, he huffed a dismayed sigh with a grave frown.

“What’s 419?” Rhett asked, intently observing the other man’s reaction.

“Dead human body.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for bearing with me! Extra special shout-out to my AO3 valentine, cinnamon bun kitten, and long suffering beta JennaLee for all the love and feedback!! 
> 
> And now for a PSA: stalking is a serious crime. Please understand that I am writing it as a plot device, not to romanticize or legitimize it in any way. Depending on the jurisdiction and particular behavior involved, it can range from misdemeanor to felony. And yes, it can happen electronically. If there is such behavior that makes you feel threatened, report to the local police department--911 only if you are in immediate danger. Restraining orders can usually be sought from the criminal court if it is a stranger involved, family court if it is a relative or someone in a domestic/marital relationship. If you're in the New York State please refer to this document published by the Attorney General's office: https://www.ag.ny.gov/sites/default/files/pdfs/bureaus/criminal_prosecutions/stalking_guide.pdf


	7. My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark--Verse II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slowly leans into the close-up cam* Hi ^_^  
> Y'all thought I left fic writing forever, huh? Well, how much school kicks my ass is kind of a broken record by now. Y'all know I'll never stop trying to find time to write, yes? Anyway as you will see in this behemoth chapter I'm starting to thread pieces of the plot together (particularly events in Chapters 1, 3 and 6, if you need a refresher ^_^). Conflicts, tears, drama, smut, much awaits! Enjoy the ride~~

_All the writers keep writing what they write_  
_Somewhere another pretty vein just dies_  
_I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see_  
_That you’re the antidote to everything except for me, me_

 _A constellation of tears on your lashes_  
_Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes_  
_In the end everything collides_  
_My childhood spat back out the monster that you see_

—Fall Out Boy, “[My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkIWmsP3c_s)”

 

"What's up, Linkster?"

Link’s mood was instantly lifted by his friend's cheery voice. "Hey Eddie, how are you?"

"Genius as usual."

"I wouldn't expect any less, Mr. Coleman. Uh...I kinda have a favor to ask."

"Ask away!"

"It's uh...a personal thing this time, not for a case. I was wondering if you could help me trace an email. I would pay you for your time, same rate the firm does--"

"Whoa whoa, Linkster, let me just stop you right there. I thought I've got this point across but apparently not. If you haven't convinced your firm to hire me as an investigator I would have been homeless in this fucking city, you realize that, right? So I'd do anything for you, dude! Quit talking about money before I get offended. Oops, too late."

Link couldn't help chuckling at his quirky friend. "Alright Eddie. I really appreciate that. So...uh...do you think you can trace the sender of an email without...seeing the actual email?"

"No problemo! A magician never reveals his secret or pokes his nose where he doesn't belong. Remove the text, send it forward and I'll figure it out!"

"Thanks Eddie. It means a lot, really."

"Don't mention it. And just a quick thought: you've read the email right? Any additional clues you can give to help me check my answers?"

Link felt his heart sink a notch just from considering the answer. "Uh...my guess is somewhere in North Carolina." _Unless he is already in New York_ , he thought, _unless he has already found me_.

"Coo-lio. I'll have it for you before the sun comes up. Don't party too hard while you wait!"

"Yes sir. Guess I'm canceling the stripper. Talk to you later."

Link clicked his phone off and felt the warm comforting energy from a good friend slowly leave him and dissipate into the silence. The space seemed just half a degree colder. With each breath he started to feel a continuously building pressure from anticipating the answer Eddie would have for him. He glanced at his rumpled bed sheets and instinctively started straightening everything out. He would never have left his bed untidied, of course, had it not been the crippling headache that morning from the hangover, and oversleeping a full ten minutes making him almost late for work. But each time his palm stroked across the sheets, his mind was flooded by the image of a tall, strong, beautiful man occupying the space under his palm, leaving those very creases that disappeared one by one under his fingertips. He stopped for a second and allowed his imagination to caress those sculpted features for a few luxurious moments, as if he could feel the scruff of his beard, the soft shells of his ears, his smooth, plump lips…but his unquiet mind immediately delved into the speculation of what Rhett must think of him now. Irrational? Weak? Promiscuous? Each adjective left him with a heavier sigh. But... _you must know how I feel about you_ , he said, _if you need to talk_ , he said.

Well, he needed to do _something_ about this all-consuming anxiety. Absent-mindedly, he peeled off the uninspired white button-down he wore to work and changed into a fresh undershirt. Languidly pushing and flipping the hanging garments back and forth on the rod, his fingers fell on a set of sharp studs. With a frown be pulled the item out of the neat row. It was a black sleeveless leather top, embellished with a scattering of metal trinkets. Not his, of course. It belonged to a previous chapter of his life that was abruptly abandoned without a proper ending.

Chris.

Strength drained from his fingers and the garment fell from his grip. Link slumped backward onto the edge of his bed, his thoughts a tangled mess. Nothing coherent emerged after a few minutes. On a sudden impulse he stood up, stripped the leather top from its hanger and tossed it in a corner behind a hefty trunk. Perhaps he will find it a new home at Goodwill over the weekend. Until then, he didn't need to look at it again. 

Oddly enough, in a matter of moments he felt haunted by the part of his life that he was trying to get away from, and left behind by the part that he was trying to hold on to. He couldn't stay there in the empty bedroom. The silence was too loud. He pulled on his darkest jeans and an ink blue denim button-down. The fabric was a bit too thick for the summer weather, but its hefty stiff texture comforted him like a shield. Link navigated the dingy subway passages on auto-pilot and made a beeline to his destination—a smile, a voice and a soul-piercing pair of eyes as irresistible as gravity.

“Pick you up, let you down  
When I wanna go  
To a place I can hide

You know me, I had plans  
But they just disappeared  
To the back of my mind…”

Link listened intently to the song and stepped carefully through the narrow doorway of the bar, as if amidst the cacophony of people and things, his footsteps were the only distraction for the musician on stage. His heart pounded with nervous excitement until Rhett came into his line of vision. The vampire wore that masterful smile, like he could charm the whole world with his guitar strings. Well, in Link’s eyes he could. His hair was the usual perfectly imperfect sky-scraping tousle, with just a few wind-blown strands out of place. Oddly enough, he was wearing the exact same mossy green linen shirt that he was in when they parted that morning, but he looked so good that Link did not want to be distracted by speculations. The brunet moved slowly and deliberately into an empty seat right by the stage.

“Oh can it be  
The voices calling me  
They get lost  
And out of time

I should've seen it glow  
But everybody knows  
That a broken heart is blind  
That a broken heart is blind…”

 

* * * * *

"What do you mean cover for you?  There's two more songs and I don't sing!" Stevie stared at Rhett with round eyes while her delicately groomed eyebrows hitched high with disbelief. 

"You don't have to! Just play some of those dazzling solo numbers and I'll announce it as a special musical treat sort of thing."

"You're skipping Gold on the Ceiling? Everyone's been leaving comments ever since we announced it on the website!"

"We could do it next week! Come on, when's the last time you showed off your Flight of the Bumblebees?"

"That's barely two minutes long and totally the wrong vibe!"

"Shubert and Liszt?”

Stevie sighed. Rhett has known his pianist long enough to see immediately that she was persuaded. 

"You owe me your _life_."

"Oh trust me, I know." Rhett smirked to Stevie's eye-roll and leapt back on stage to announce the change.

"What's gotten into him?" Stevie whispered to Ben while listening for her cue.

"I think it might be looove." The percussionist flicked his chin towards the handsome brunet sitting by himself and studying Rhett's every move with eager eyes. Stevie glanced between the bespectacled figure and the smug grin on Ben's face, and bloomed into a conspiring smile.

Just as his band expected, Rhett hastily concluded his announcement and strode towards the brunet in a beeline. If there were ever a murmur of surprise in the audience, it was silenced as soon as Stevie's deft fingers fell on the black and white keys.

"Feeling better?" Rhett asked softly, carefully fitting his towering frame into the narrow seating space opposite Link. The beauty of that chiseled jawline and delicious tan contrasting that dark navy shirt was driving the vampire wild. He was already on edge thanks to the newly gained knowledge from his unexpected meeting with Artiglio, aka Agent Balor, not to mention the sleep deprivation insidiously sapping his body. There was no way he could carry himself through more singing, with Link being just out of his reach looking like _that_.

"Physically yeah, thanks for asking. Mentally... not feeling any less stupid for making an ass out of myself." The brunet smiled, titling his face downwards. Rhett marveled at the subtle curvature of his eyebrows and almost lost his train of thought.

"I don't think you did anything particularly blameworthy."

Link chuckled. "My headache would argue against ya. Plus I...um...kind of kidnapped you to my apartment."

"I think the more appropriate way to put it is that I chased after you." Rhett admitted graciously, watching the brunet giggle and press his finger to his lips. "Excuse me for a moment."

He reached the bar in a few strides and exchanged a quick word with the mixologist. Links eyes were still gleaming with curiosity, but the vampire was already back in his seat. . Before long two beverages were placed on the table between therm. A tall, pitch-black glass for Rhett, and a delicate porcelain cup with a proper saucer for Link. He flashed a genuinely amused smile.

"Did you get me an Irish coffee?"

Rhett smiled and shook his head. "No. This is a far superior remedy for your headache."

Link's eyes lit up--as if they could be brighter than they already are. He lowered the perky tip of his nose towards the billowing steam and sniffed quietly.

"Ooh peppermint, I love that. And....flowers?"

Rhett chuckled. "Lavender. The oils from those particular herbs have calming effects on the nervous system. I learned it from my maker. She has been working as a nurse since before the war and knows all the folk remedies."

"Your maker, huh?"

"Yes, Evelyn. She has been a great mentor to me. You should meet her sometime. She would adore you."

The amount of surprise in Link's expression confused him.

"Did I say something upsetting?"

"No, not at all! It's just that...I thought people wouldn't have the 'meet the parents' conversation until they've...been dating for a long time. I...I'm not assuming that it's a parental relationship between you guys...anyway. I'm gonna take my foot out of my mouth and have some tea." The brunet nervously darted his eyes away from Rhett.

"But you're right," Rhett adored the subtle blush while Link buried his face in the steam from the hot tea, "it would be ungrateful of me to consider Evelyn any less of a mother. She did give me life. Well...second life." Rhett amended his statement quietly and took a long overdue sip of his sustenance.

"Is that what I think it is?"

The vampire didn't expect the clear, soft voice to make him so nervous. Self-consciously he licked his lips, worried that they would be stained a tell-tale bloody red.

"It's...it's synthetic. Not taken from...anybody, of course. But it supplies me with the elements I need to survive." He watched attentively for Link's reaction, as if his own fate hung in the balance.

"Yeah, I know about TruBlood. It's just...sometimes I wonder how it works. If it can satisfy the needs of a vampire, would they then one day figure out certain modifications to make it suitable for transfusions as well? And if that happens, hospital shortages for rare blood types would be a thing of the past, wouldn't it?"

"Sometimes I wonder why they didn't work on human application first."

The brunet stacked his delicate hands under his chin and regarded Rhett with a sweet smile.

"Isn't it amazing what makes the human body...alive? Vampires too, for that matter. You can attribute the blood circulation to the muscle contraction in the heart, and the nervous system for controlling the muscles. But what makes the first...spark? You know? When a life is just a single cell, is it...moving on the inside? How? And...why?"

Rhett had to remind himself of the courtesy to participate in the conversation, and not just ogle at the gleaming blue eyes. "You must have really liked the story of Frankenstein."

"I loved it! Although I doubt the key to creating life is as simple as electricity. Speaking of that, I really liked the concept behind the Matrix movies as well but the execution...left something to be desired." Link smiled, indulging in his tea. "What's your favorite story?"

" _That_ is a good question." Rhett relaxed into the flow of the conversation and took a bigger sip of his synthetic blood. "I find that it is something that changes with time. When I was young I found love stories practically irresistible, particularly those with a tragic twist--from Tristan and Isolde to Die Leiden des jungen Werthers. As I matured and gained a more...cynical view of the world, I really took to French realism, buried my nose in Balzac and Molière. After I was turned, well, I had a tumultuous time redefining my identity. I sought out what I barely understood, the grotesque, the surreal, the avant-garde, until they were so far removed from reality that they bored me. Nowadays my preference is more...eclectic. I more often seek to be entertained by what I read, need not be anything too artful. A lovable monster is always a nice touch."

Rhett felt as though he paid more attention to Link's keen blue eyes than to his own words. The brunet wore a dreamy smile, absentmindedly dragging his fingertip across his lips. The way his soft, plump lips responded to the touch fueled a rapidly growing excitement. Rhett had to adjust himself in his seat and distract himself with an abundance of unappealing thoughts so that his body wouldn’t betray him. He thought it fortunate that his vampiric mind ran miles in a second.

"That all is fascinating but...did you just speak German to me?"

"Hmm?"

"One of those books you mentioned, sounds like German."

"Oh, you're right. The Sorrows of Young Werther. I thought it wise to learn other languages, given that uh...time is on my side. I picked up enough German and French to be able to carry a conversation and read with the help of a dictionary, not perfectly fluent of course."

"Say something in German."

Rhett couldn't deny how aroused he was by the coy spark in those blue eyes and suddenly felt emboldened. He leaned forward, looked straight into Link's eyes, and conjured a deep, husky whisper.

"Ich brauche deine Lippen, um mir Lust."

"Wh...what?" Link grinned, flustered. Rhett couldn't tell if he was blushing all over again or the subtle warm hue just never faded from those soft cheeks. "What'd you say?"

"That I'm really enjoying our conversation."

The intelligent blue eyes narrowed, making Link's smile look mischievous and maddeningly sexy. "No...that’s something naughty." Rhett didn’t admit to anything, instead kept his eyes fastened on Link’s, making the brunet giggle. “Say the same thing in French.”

“Je voudrais vous prendre juste au comble du plaisir.” Rhett savored the softness of the exotic language, making his voice a breathy whisper. Link gasped and chewed on his lip. The vampire immediately started imagining plucking the lithe body from his seat, pinning him against the wall and kissing him senseless, but he had to remember that they were in public and social decorum required his compliance.

“Yeah, right. You were totally talking about our ‘conversation’.” The human mimicked him, hitching an eyebrow until it disappeared in his dark fringes. Rhett smirked and discreetly pulled his seat forward, determined to continue the evening leaning closer to the man of his dreams. Meanwhile, the piano notes slowed into a conclusion, and an enthused applause rose and ebbed.

“Hey, wanna bet how long they go from eye-fucking to real fucking?”

“Ben!”

“What, Stevie?”

“You do realize that he’s a vampire and he can hear you from there.”

Of course, Rhett heard each and every regretful cuss word from his percussionist, but he hid his amusement behind a smooth poker face, never moving his gaze away from Link’s face.

“Hey how come you sound different when you’re on stage?” Link asked, head tilted to the side and eyes blazing with curiosity.

“How do you mean?”

“See, like that. Here you say things like ‘how do you mean’, but when you’re talking on stage you sound more…casual? You don’t use any big words and you put on a southern accent—a really good one though.”

Rhett chuckled. “Astute observation. When I’m performing I appeal to the speech pattern of my audience, plain, simple and somewhat deviant from grammatical convention. When I speak in private, I do so as I was taught, strictly, many decades ago. As to my accent, well, I must have lived in this city for far too long to make my native accent sound like a performance.”

“Your native accent? Wait…where are you from?”

“I was born in Georgia and grew up in North Carolina.”

“I can’t believe this. That’s where I grew up.”

Rhett couldn’t believe his ears. For a long time he ached over not having anything to share with Link’s life, but little did he know they shared the deepest kind of connection—their roots. Amazed, he was speechless.

“Wow I…I don’t know what to say. I always thought it was a cliché when people say ‘deep’ things about time but…to think that the paths of our lives unfolded in the same place, and it was only time that kept them from intersecting…Makes you wonder why we can’t travers the fourth dimension like we do the other three, doesn’t it?”

“But our paths _did_ intersect.” Rhett eagerly reached out and lay his hand on top of Link’s. “I got to know you here in _this_ city, and it’s one of the most wonderful events in my life.”  

Link’s lips parted and the sweet peppermint scent made the vampire smile. For a few seconds the blue eyes gleamed while he gasped silently. His sharp Adam’s apple bobbed sharply as he swallowed hard.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you suggesting…”

“Uh huh, come home with me.”

“Link…” As if the previous night was replaying itself, Rhett found it even harder to fight the invitation. But the more he considered them being together, the more he was certain that it was important to make it clear how much he treasured their relationship. So he ignored the part of his brain that was already undressing the raven-haired man in front of him and said what was rational. “You can’t imagine how happy it makes me that you reciprocate my affection, but if you really wish for us to be together, allow me to call on you properly.”

“Am I speaking to a Victorian romance movie right now?”

The taller man chuckled full-heartedly. “Link, you can imagine how I was raised and how social convention dictated the proper way to…woo a gentleman like yourself. Allow me to at least take you out for a night on the town.”

Link’s eyebrows hitched up and his lips quivered lightly to hide a smirk. “The lawyer in me would have countered that we are, right now, ‘on the town’ at nighttime but I’m also really excited to find out what you’re planning.”

“You will soon.”

Rhett spent the rest of the evening reminiscing Link’s pearly teeth biting his plump lip while anticipation sparkled in those sapphire eyes.

 

* * * * *

Sitting at his desk while sunlight streaked through his office window, Link was almost beside himself. It has been two days but he still felt frustrated from once again not spending the night tangled up with the sexiest man he has ever seen. He believed that if he were so lucky to spend just one night with the enigmatic musician, it would surely be something he will remember for a lifetime. He knew that strictly speaking, Rhett wasn’t turning him down. But the thought of that idol of a man taking _him_ up for anything more than a one-night stand was…almost dizzying. However he hasn’t heard from the vampire in the past two days. Well, that was just the thing—a vampire’s “day” would be his night, maybe Rhett hadn’t found a convenient time to call. Maybe he was old-fashioned and disliked texting as a mode of communication.

As a man of somewhat anxious nature, Link learned very early on that “intrusive thought” was exactly like the term suggested—it could intrude upon one’s mind at any random moment, with no rhyme or reason. Just now, while he was entranced in speculations about his brand new affair like a love-struck teenager, his mind leapt to the address in Lillington that Eddie texted him. “No tricks, no bounces, dusty old residential server. Very uncreative,” were Eddie’s exact words. His friend had offered to keep track of the device associated with the IP address, which Link accepted. In a mind as rational as his, there was still a small voice of wishful thinking that speculated the email to be a prank, but a much more distinctive voice was simply telling him to trust his worst fear.

Just as he was about to stand up and pace anxiously in his office space, a shrill ring came from the telephone on his desk. The button labeled “Reception” blinked impatiently.

“Good morning Link.”

“Hi Candace. What’s up?”

“There’s a special delivery for you here from Atelier St. Montclair?”

“What? I don’t think…”

“Wait, hold on…” Link waited while the receptionist spoke to someone else on the other end. “It’s from a Mr. Rhett McLaughlin?”

“Oh, send them up right away! Thank you Candace.”

Moments later a tall, dark-haired man in a meticulously tailored suit and white gloves showed up at Link’s glass door. The attorney leapt up from his seat and enthusiastically gestured him inside as soon as he raised his knuckles to knock. The good-looking messenger strode elegantly to Link’s desk and laid a sleek, rectangular box on his desk. They exchanged brief pleasantries and a firm handshake, and the stranger swiftly made himself scarce.

Link regarded the luxurious package on his desk while his heart pounded with excitement and uncertainty. The pitch-black box had a smooth matte finished with the name of the Atelier printed in high gloss. Two of the corners were bound diagonally with charcoal ribbons. He slid the ribbons off carefully, took a deep breath, and lifted the cover.

The contents inside was concealed by smoothly folded dove grey tissue paper, on top of which lay a stiff envelope. Link opened a drawer and took out his letter opener—the parting gift from his former boss and mentor Cyrus Vance from his prosecutor days—and slit the envelope open with surgical caution. The first item he retrieved was a stiff card with lavish Victorian corners, ascribed in the most elaborate cursive:

Link let out a chuckle of disbelief and reached his fingers into the envelope again. As expected, he pulled out a crisp ticket for the next evening, with the word “orchestra” in the seating assignment section. He contemplated the short, wide font of the print reminiscent of vintage typewriters, and felt for a moment that he was removed from reality and transplanted into a dream. Given his experience with men, even a few words of kindness could make him feel like royalty. Naturally, every single thing that Rhett had done for him since they made acquaintance felt nothing short of surreal. And there was, literally, still more to unwrap.

The smooth tissue paper rustled under his excited fingers as he moved it aside and lifted the content with an involuntary “wow”. Laying in his hand, as soft as butter, was a tie of the finest royal blue silk. The fabric bore elegant peonies embroidered with threads of the same hue but half a shade darker. Each flower seemed slightly different in its own intricacy, but all of them were as vivid as if they were at the very moment swaying in a light breeze. Link gingerly ran his fingers down the fabric, finding it hard to believe that this piece of utmost luxury would be in his possession.

“Special occasion?”

The familiar, clear voice of Brian gave him a slight jump. He looked up with wide eyes and realized that his mouth had been hanging open this whole time. He swallowed and blinked himself back to reality.

“Atelier St. Montclair? Seriously? _Reeeally_ special occasion then.” Brian picked up one of the ribbons with a smirk, turned it around in his hand, and set it back down on the desk, playfully demanding an explanation with his eyes.

“Yeah…” Link trailed off into a breathy chuckle. “I guess I have a date.”

“You guess?”

“Well, Rhett got me a frickin Broadway ticket…and this.” Link’s eyes fell back onto the tie in his hand and felt once again like he was dreaming.

Brian stared back with confusion for a few seconds. “McLaughlin?”

“Yeah.”

“The singer at Rumor. Who turned out to be a vampire?”

“Uh huh.”

“And…you appreciate a vampire trying to steal you from your boyfriend?”

“What? Oh…um…Chris and I are not…anymore. He’s not coming back from California.”

Brian fell silent for a minute, chin lifted, green eyes wide and lips parted. “Oh…When did that happen?”

“Monday.”

Brian’s eyebrows were hitched so high his nod seemed downright acrimonious. “Vampires really do move fast, huh.”

“Um, pretty sure _I_ made the first move.” The night of drunken foolishness came back to Link’s memory. He chuckled and shook his head at his ridiculous self. His quick witted mentee fell silent for a moment, and Link curiously looked up. The strawberry-blond was regarding him with an inquisitive frown.

“Is that your type?”

“My type?”

“You know, singers, performers…showboats.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Brian. I’m not sure I even have a type.”

“The majority of the population would only associate with people that can be categorized in a certain way, Link. And whatever your category is…” the young man dipped his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, lowering his voice, “it doesn’t include me, does it?”

Link licked his suddenly parched lips and moved them a few times, but no words came out. He gently laid the tie down on top of the tissue paper and braced his hands on the table, eyes fixed at an insignificant spot. “We work together, Brian. Maybe it’s best—”

“Yeah.” The taller young man replied curtly and swiveled around with no hesitation. His long legs drew enormous strides on his way out of Link’s space. The brunet spent a few moments wallowing in guilt before pulling out his phone and texting “emergency” to his best friend.

At precisely 8:30 that evening, Link’s doorbell rang.

“What’s up bro?” The muscular blonde girl at the door offered him a smile that lit up his day.

“Hey Jen, so good to see you.” Link eagerly stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. “Did you just come from the gym?” He commented on the dampness at the ends of her hair.

“Yep, squats and deadlifts. My legs are exhausted and ready to kick your ass! You broke up two days ago and didn’t tell me til now? Over _text_?”

“I know, I know, I’m horrible.”

“You owe me like three pizzas.”

“Fine, fine. Just zip it and get over here.” Link tugged his best friend by the wrist and pulled her to the dining table where Rhett’s presents were laid out.

“What’s this about?” Jen frowned at the display, confused.

“The emergency.”

“A tie?”

“And this.” Link picked up the ticket and handed it to Jen with anxiously shaky fingers.

“Whoa, Broadway? Fancy.”

“It’s from Rhett. My…uh…my date.”

“Nice!”

“But…what do I do?”

“Uh…you go here at this time and watch this show.” Jen pointed to sections of the ticket and said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The brunet rolled his eyes impatiently. “No like…what do I _do_? I’ve never been on a date that requires something like _this_.” Link pointed to the benign piece of silk lying motionless in the box, as if it was constantly judging his worthiness for his suitor.

Jen sighed briskly. “Link, this is a tie. I hear this is what lawyers such as yourself wear to work. Every frickin’ day.”

Link licked his lips and absent-mindedly scratched the scattering of hair on his forearm. “But…I shouldn’t look like I’m going to work, right? Help?”

“Seriously? You’re asking me for advice on fashion. Observe my style.” Jen waggled her index fingers at her worn-out flannel shirt and sweatpants.

“Just…lend me some fresh eyes. Come on.” Link picked up the box and towed his friend to his closet.

“So his name is Rhett, huh? That’s unique. Very classy.” Jen commented while shaking her head to a papyrus toned linen shirt that Link pulled out and placed behind the tie.

“He is incredibly classy. Makes me feel like I can’t…keep up sometimes.” Link hang the vetoed shirt back into the row and smoothed out the sleeves. He grabbed a white shirt with very fine black and grey plaid pattern.

“No, no.” Jen shook her head right away. “What do you mean you can’t keep up? You’re the smartest person I know.” She fidgeted with the collection of graphic T-shirts and pulled aside one with two humming birds spreading their wings back to back on top of two carnations. She tilted her head to the side and frowned at the three upside-down equilateral triangles superimposed on the flowers.

“No, besides yourself, Henry is the smartest person you know. Medicine is a lot harder than law, trust me.”

“I think you could have been a doctor if you wanted to. No, I thought you didn’t wanna look like you were going to work.” Jen held out her palm disapprovingly at the plain white shirt Link placed behind the tie.

The brunet sighed, defeated. “Why bother. I’m just gonna look like a dork next to Rhett. Gosh, you should have seen the guy. He’s a head taller than me and…blond and…so gorgeous.”  

“Oh shut up. You look good in _anything_ thanks to those twiggy legs and freakishly blue eyes.” Jen smirked and received a prompt punch on her hefty bicep. “Hey, you got a picture of this guy?”

“Hmm, he plays at Rumor so they might have a picture on the website.” Link put down the silken conundrum in his hand and strolled to his laptop. “There.” He pointed to the freshly opened webpage after a few taps and clicks.

The image was of Rhett on stage, sitting in dim cobalt lighting. His fingers tensed over guitar strings while his lips formed a small “o” mid-song. His half-closed eyes showed off a luscious fringe of long, dark eyelashes. The serene expression made his artistic indulgence exude from the still image. His casually crossed legs were obscured by a pair of pitch-black skinny jeans, but every hefty muscle on his upper body was highlighted by a painted-on grey Henley shirt, unbuttoned at the top. Link felt his heartbeat start to quicken just from looking at the beautiful man.

“Nice eyebrows.” Jen nodded approvingly. “He seems like a very artistic guy, and he’s taking you to a date in a musical theater…hmm. Let’s rethink this a little bit.” Jen carefully pinched the tie between her fingers and examined it more closely. “See, this is a very bright and bold color. It makes me think of jewelry. And you know those stuck-up jewelry stores with the fancy display windows? They always put everything…” she trialed off mid-sentence and started quickly pawing through the hangers with a determined sense of purpose.

“I can just see a light bulb above your head right now.” Link folded his arms and teased.

Jen ignored him and pulled out a shirt with a determined smile. “On a black background.”

The shirt in Jen’s hand was pitched-black, plain and simple. Link picked up the tie and placed it in front of the button closure. Instantly, the lush silk became the only light-reflecting surface, fixating the eyes on the rich color and flawless embroidery. The contrast between the accessory and its background was that of a royal blue flame blazing at the darkest hour of a starless night. It was a seamless match.

“Miss Matichuk,” Link enunciated appreciatively. “They taught you styling at Yale?”

Jen shrugged. “Nah, just seen too many trust fund babies around campus, I guess.” She did not peel her eyes away from the closet until finding a thick wooden hanger on which displayed a deep navy suit just a shade shy of black. She thrusted it towards Link with a triumphant smile.

Link gave his best friend a genuinely impressed look and took the suit from her. He removed the blazer, put it over the black shirt and held the tie in front. He swung the ensemble around and pressed it to his body, looking in the mirror. The color combination, as Jen intended, had a fashionable artistic flare. Seeing how he would look made the fantastic idea of a date with Rhett much more _real_. Anticipation made him giddy.

“Did you thank him?”

“Um…not yet.”

“Dude! Wipe that smirk off your face and call your new boyfriend!”

“Ok, ok. Let’s see…he goes to bed at four something before sunrise…” Link raised his wrist to check the watch, “well it’s almost nine now, he should be awake. Let me just text him to see if it’s a good time.”

“He sleeps through the day? Talk about musicians and their crazy lifestyle.”

“Oh, it’s not that. He’s a vampire.” Link spoke with his eyes on his phone screen and didn’t realize until a few seconds later that Jen had fallen completely silent.

“Jen, come on.”

Link felt his heart sink when he saw his best friend’s face. It was as if the light-hearted excitement and solidarity of the evening never happened and they had, instead, spent this whole time arguing. She stared at Link with an appalled frown, looking devastated—betrayed.

“Link, you wouldn’t.”

“Please, Jen. Not every vampire is like Miranda.”

“Mirabel!”

“Right, right, sorry.”

“Link, what she did to Kevin was inexcusable! You should have at least remembered the name!”

“I’m sorry…it’s just, you’ve only mentioned it once in passing and I’ve never met Kevin.”

“She left him covered in fang marks and he still thinks he loves her!”

“Jen, that’s very unfortunate, no one can deny that. But you can’t judge an entire group based on the action of one—” 

“That’s what vampires have done for thousands of years, Link! That’s what they’re capable of!”

“Jen, humans have been doing horrible things since they came into existence too! You can’t think every person you pass on the street is comparable to Bundy or Gacy! And vampires were just ordinary humans before they were turned, many involuntarily, if I may add. They have spent a decade trying to fit into human society by now, and they’ve made a lot of effort to abide by our laws and customs. More importantly, Rhett is the nicest person I’ve ever met—and yes, I said person. He healed me when I was bleeding and he took me home and watched over me when I was punched out drunk. I’d be an idiot to not trust him.”

Link secretly let out a nervous breath for almost telling his over-protective friend about how Rhett saved him from an attack. She would have gone on to interrogate him for hours about the culpable asses and whether they had been properly kicked. But instead, Jen just gave him a stare of dismay with crossed arms and burgeoning muscles. A few seconds later she finally relented and pursed her lips with a brisk sigh.

“Don’t think he can get away without convincing me in person!”

“If I don’t scare him away with my awkwardness on the first date, I’ll arrange an inspection for you, your majesty.”

And it was Link’s turn to receive a punch on the arm. But the rest of the evening was rather eventless, with Jen finally appeased by Link’s promise to arrange a get-together introducing her to Rhett along with the best cream puff pastries in Manhattan. He had a short and nervously giggling conversation with the charming vampire to say how much he appreciated the generous gift and how he was looking forward to the following night. As soon as he put down the phone, he twirled around the apartment like an over-wound toy soldier and vacuumed and polished every surface until his sweat smelled like detergent. A perfunctory shower later he practically collapsed into bed.

As a dedicated professional, Link was embarrassed by how distracted he was at work the following day. However night fell mercifully soon, and he did his best to fasten the beautiful tie against the shaking of his fingers. He smoothed the suit down against his body a dozen times, taking loud, deep breaths. Then he stared critically at himself in the mirror, repeatedly checking the pressed creases in his trousers. He got ready half an hour early and couldn’t stop eyeing his coffee maker. But eventually he decided against it, convincing himself that if he were to add caffeine to this much anxiety, he would start outright babbling. A thirty-minute long eternity later, the doorbell rang.

As soon as he saw Rhett, Link was too overwhelmed to even gasp.

The vampire stood tall with a charismatic smile, with one hand stuffed in his pocket like it was just any other Friday. His hair was tousled sky-high and the lighter golden tones seemed to be glistening brighter than usual. He chose a simple and classic white shirt with a black bow-tie, topped off with a deep maroon suit that had stylish black lapels. The color was perfectly complementary to the coloring of his hair and the deeper tones of his neatly trimmed beard. The warmth of the shade added a vivid air to his skin, making him look that much more human.

Link ogled him with one hand bracing on his door frame, dumbfounded. His mouth hung open in amazement for a few seconds, and all of a sudden, he felt all the anxiety and reservation dissipate into the void. All that was left was desire, and it was incredibly refreshing.

“I am so fucked.”

He mumbled, and practically lunged himself into the vampire. He threw his arms around the taller man’s neck and his fingers buried into the dark-blond hair while their lips crashed together. The fierce vampire made a tiny, surprised whimper. But slowly and gently, Rhett’s large hands found their way onto Link’s waist. They glided smoothly onto his back and held him closer. The vampire was gentle and careful, but Link’s lips were far more eager and hungry. He savored the unfamiliar rough graze of a beard, and moaned indulgently at the contrast of the soft, plump texture of the lips hidden behind the coarse hair. Languidly he licked a line up the center of Rhett’s lips. Then he pinch Rhett’s bottom lip between his teeth and slowly pulled back, raking and releasing the soft flesh.

With that, Link put on a seductive smirk and back stepped into his apartment. The vampire blinked dreamily and cleared his throat. Just as Link intended, Rhett closed the distance between them in one long stride and gripped the brunet’s shoulders, bringing him back to his lips. Link threw his arms around the vampire’s waist and happily surrendered to the gentle explorations of Rhett’s lips. When they parted Link had satisfied his desire to caress the vampire’s heftily built back muscles through his elegant suit. He slid his hands onto Rhett’s hips and looked up at his strong features with a mischievous smile.

“Wow. That was…” the 6’7” man cleared his throat very softly, “quite the kiss.”

“Funny I was just gonna say the same thing to you.” Link walked his fingers up from Rhett’s waist to his chest, and slid his hand down the taller man’s arm with an appreciative “mmm”. “Wait, I just realized, you came right in! I haven’t said my invitation.”

“Your invitation stands until such time that it is rescinded.”

“Convenient. I like that.” Link batted his eyelashes and coyly ran his hand down Rhett’s lapel.

“You look incredible.” Rhett said, gently stroking down the blue silk tie with his knuckles. Link felt his tantalizing touch through the layers of fabric, as if the vampire’s cool fingers drew a trail of fire down the center of his body.

“Thank you for having impeccable taste but I have no idea how to repay you for this luxury.” Link’s tone was still playful but his mind was genuinely troubled by the size of Rhett’s expenditure.

“Hmm maybe I’m satisfied with the knowledge that I have impeccable taste.” The vampire said, looking deep into Link’s eyes and gently placing a hand on the side of the brunet’s face, stroking his cheek with the pad of his thumb. The surface of his finger was a bit roughened by years of friction upon guitar strings, but his touch was the softest Link has ever felt.

“Got your ticket?” Rhett asked softly, pulling the edge of a stiff rectangle out of his pocket.

“Right here.” Link did the exact same. They left the apartment hand-in-hand and Link’s heart never stopped pounding out of excitement, anticipation and desire.

“Hey…uh…right before you kissed me…why did you say that you were, quote, ‘fucked’?” Rhett asked once inside the elevator, his lips struggled around the profanity.

Pressing “1” on the panel, Link could feel the vampire’s warm olive eyes boring into the side of his face.

“Hmm? Um…nothing. You know, Freudian slip.” Link rushed his words and bit back a smirk without looking at Rhett. Regardless, he could sense those large, bright eyes narrowing under the fierce brow.

Outside the apartment building, a discreet black town car was waiting for them. The driver in a white shirt and black vest stood by the side of the car, pulling the door open for the duo with a warm smile. Link enthusiastically expressed his gratitude and climbed in. The vampire swiftly followed.

“Do you like it? I thought a taxi would be too unceremonious while a limo for just two people is a criminal waste of energy and resources.”

“This is perfect. I could spend the entire evening saying ‘thank you’ and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Link said softly and candidly, taking Rhett’s hand in his. The vampire looked tenderly into his eyes and planted a soft kiss in his hair.

Link was half dreaming as he stepped out of the car, entered beneath a dazzling marquee, and smiled to the ushers in white shirts and red vests. On his way to their seats, he had to stop in his track. The view was too spectacular to not pause and take it all in.

The space was a symphony of red and gold. Hundreds of rows of plush, red seats lined up neatly and utterly pleased Link’s organization-driven mind. The carpet was a warmer shade of red, creating a welcoming sort of grandeur that spoke to every spectator that they’re in the presence of something truly magical. On the left and right walls of the immense space were three protruding balconies one above the other, suspended mid-air like gilded architectural sculptures. Rows of lights seamlessly blended into the horizontal and vertical lines of the space, knitting the modern and classic features into a cohesive texture. Link let his eyes trace the hefty golden columns that ran from the floor to the lofty ceiling, craning his neck up to observe the intricate decor carved at the very top. He loved the dramatic red stage curtains too—panning his head left and right to appreciate the sheer expanse of the fabric and loving the evenly spaced, pin-straight accordion creases. He couldn’t help turning around and tilting his head all the way up to look at all the seating levels above, each skirted by gilded, adorned balconies and filled with welcoming red seats. He wore a wide, open-mouthed smile and gladly lost himself in the splendor of the space alone.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Link felt the vampire’s cool breath brush the shell of his ear as the taller man bent down slightly to whisper to him.

“Is this a palace? This is a frickin’ palace!” Link marveled like a wonderstruck child, eyes still busy scanning the rich colors and intricate art.

Rhett chuckled softly. “The name ‘majestic’ is very apt, indeed. Shall we?”

“Huh?”

“Take our seats.”

“Oh, right, right.” Link hastily collected himself and followed his date to their row.

Link was so giddy with anticipation that he hardly noticed the passage of time while they were waiting for the show to start. Promptly the space was dimmed and the magnificent red curtain glided open with the promise of endless wonder. He weaved his fingers tightly together and tucked them under his chin with thrill. On his right, Rhett gently pressed a hand on his thigh. The brunet looked over and saw that even in the darkness, the warm green eyes were sparking with a smile.

A dim light came on above the stage, barely illuminating the dark figures descending the stairs on each side. With audible footsteps echoing in the hollow space, actors in prim Victorian dress took their places. An auctioneer in a glossy top hat proudly stood behind a high podium in the center.

“Sold. Your number, sir? Thank you.

Lot 663, then, ladies and gentlemen:

A poster for this house's production of ‘Hannibal’ by Chalumeau.”

A painted poster unfurled loudly in the hands of the silent assistant, followed by a strange shadow box containing a pistol and three skulls. The next item was a much more famous souvenir in music and literature: a music box gilded on all its edges and topped with a grotesque monkey holding a pair of cymbals. It was presented with the nostalgic singing of the actor identified as the Vicomte de Chagny. But it seemed that the auctioneer had a more important item yet to reveal:

“Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces.

Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera:

A mystery never fully explained.

We are told, ladies and gentlemen,

That this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster.

Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light,

So that we may get a hint of how it may look when reassembled.

Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago

With a little illumination, gentlemen?”

With those words, a drab tubular drape inscribed “lot 666” started rising and disappearing towards the ceiling. From bottom up, a glistening chandelier was revealed. Lights were strategically placed amongst the faceted crystal pieces, making them gleam splendidly. All of a sudden, bright sparks started exploding around the lights while a deafening organ came to life, booming the ominous motif of the musical throughout the theater. The abrupt jog of sight and sound gave Link quite a start. He jumped slightly in his seat, hugging his forearms to his chest. Rhett immediately turned to him with a concerned look. Link silently communicated his embarrassment with a shy smile. The vampire smiled back and patted his thigh gently for reassurance. He picked up Link’s right hand and held it in his on the armrest.

A brief applause sounded and dissipated as the audience welcomed the ballet dancers filing onto stage, narrating the rehearsal of “Hannibal” as the beginning of the flashback narration. Their festive costumes shimmered in red, green and gold. Their movements were precise, elegant and light as air. A trim male soloist in particular twirled and leapt with such grace and ease that Link couldn’t help gawking in wide-eyed wonderment. The actress playing Carlotta soon launched into a rendition of the first aria, flaunting her skillful coloratura in a designedly over-sung arrangement. She moved about the stage with glaring arrogance, forcing the other actors to retreat and make way. Just as she finished her first verse, a massive drapery fell from the ceiling with a hollow thump. The singers and dancers yelled and scampered in choreographed panic. Link could feel the vampire glancing at him. He gently squeezed Rhett’s broad palm, reassuring that the surprises didn’t scare him. He was rewarded with a soft kiss on the back of his hand.

Meanwhile, the actors sang their fearful conjectures of the phantom of the opera. The diva Carlotta delivered a tirade about the strange incidents haunting the opera house, and stormed out of the stage. The rehearsal company was left in exasperation, until the heroine, ingénue Christine Daaé, was eagerly pushed into the spotlight as a replacement. A reverent silent fell all over the theater as her crystal clear voice soar weightlessly with the exquisite melody:

“Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me every so often --promise me you'll try.  
On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free,  
If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me.

And though it's clear, though it was always clear that this was never meant to be,  
If you happen to remember, stop and think of me.  
Think of August when the trees were green -  
Don't think about the ways things might have been.

Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned.  
Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind.  
Think of me, please say you'll think of me, whatever else you choose to do --  
There will never be a day when I won't think of you…”

An enthused applause punctuated the celebration of Christine’s dazzling success. But before long, a ghostly whisper of tenor echoed from an indeterminate source:

“Christine…”

In song, the ingénue painted the phantom through her eyes. She sang of him as her angel of music, her guide and guardian. She sang curiously but lovingly about how she sensed his presence. She was soon visited by her suitor, Raoul, who urged her to leave with him despite her pleading that the angel of music would forbid her to. As Raoul exited the stage, the voice of the phantom loomed in a hollow echo. The iconic half-masked face appeared in the mirror and beckoned Christine to join him. “I am your angel of music,” he sang, “come to the angle of music…” The booming organ repeated the gloomy motif as the entire space was dimmed. Christine disappeared.

Seconds later she appeared with the phantom on a bridge suspended high above the stage. The phantom gripped her by her wrist as they sang a somber duet. “Sing for me,” said the phantom, again and again, driving Christine’s voice higher and higher. With each octave it seemed that her voice had reached its physical apex, but somehow it would soar higher in the next. Her last note was nothing short of a musical scream, but it was delivered with intricate vibrato, pitch-perfect.

And then the phantom sang, what Link thought was the most magnificent song ever written, a song he would never forget:

“Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender  
Turn your face away from the garish light of day,  
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light  
And listen to the music of the night

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!  
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!  
And you'll live as you've never lived before…

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you  
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you.  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind  
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight  
The darkness of the music of the night...

Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world!  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!  
Let your soul take you where you long to be!  
Only then can you belong to me...

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation!  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in  
To the power of the music that I write  
The power of the music of the night...”

While Link was entranced by the beauty of the song, on stage, Christine pulled off the phantom’s mask out of curiosity. The phantom was horrified and enraged by the revelation of his deformity. With a furious tirade he returned Christine to the opera house, but his demand that she replace Carlotta in the leading role was mocked by the supporting actors. Without heeding his grim warning, the diva took the leading role, ending in her voice being transformed into that of a toad. The managers of the opera tried to salvage the show by presenting a prim and dainty ballet, but it was brought to a ghastly halt by a man falling through the ceiling, hung by his neck. Link gasped shallowly. He felt the vampire gently stroking the back of his hand with the pad of his thumb. Link turned to him with a smile and took a deep breath.

On stage, Christine escaped with Raoul amidst the chaos and their romantic duet riveted Link’s attention:

“No more talk of darkness,  
Forget these wide-eyed fears.  
I'm here, nothing can harm you  
My words will warm and calm you.

Let me be your freedom,  
Let daylight dry your tears.  
I'm here, with you, beside you,  
To guard you and to guide you...

Say you love me every waking moment,  
Turn my head with talk of summertime  
Say you need me with you, now and always  
Promise me that all you say is true--  
That's all I ask of you.

Let me be your shelter,  
Let me be your light.  
You're safe: No-one will find you  
Your fears are far behind you...

All I want is freedom,  
A world with no more night...  
And you, always beside me  
To hold me and to hide me...

Then say you'll share with me  
One love, one lifetime...  
Let me lead you from your solitude...  
Say you need me with you here, beside you...  
Anywhere you go, let me go too...  
Love me -That's all I ask of you ...”

Link was completely mesmerized by the beautiful melody. He didn’t even realize that somewhere during the song, he had inched closer to Rhett and laid his head on the taller one’s shoulder. The actors’ intertwining voices culminated in a tender kiss. Link felt the vampire bend over to kiss his forehead where his fringes parted. Link smiled and picked up their intertwined fingers from the armrest to plant a soft, lingering kiss on Rhett’s thumb.

The young lovers on stage left ecstatically while the melody gradually took a grim turn. High above the stage, a cloaked and masked figure slowly rose from the suspended bridge and sang a heart-broken monologue of jealousy and betrayal. As his revenge, when all the actors gathered back on stage in celebration of their success, the chandelier once again burst explosive sparks. In half a heartbeat the entire space was plunged into darkness.

In a heartbeat, applause rose throughout the theater. The lights in the seating area came to life. Conversation and movements stirred all around him, acknowledging the intermission. Link felt as if he woke from a dream, but very reluctantly so.

“Oh…wow…” Link tilted his head to the intricate gold and turquoise trellis on the ceiling, still dazed. He tightened his fingers around Rhett’s broad hand, and the sensation finally grounded him in reality. “That was…I mean we’ve only seen half of the show but…I think that might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it.” Rhett kissed the back of his hand and smoothly pulled them both up from their seats. “This is my favorite musical on Broadway.”

“Mine too! I mean, this is the first one I’ve seen…”

“Really? Hmm. Not to sound too cliché but we should do this more often.”

Link chuckled, pulled his hand out of Rhett’s and wrapped his arm around the taller man’s waist. Together they followed the crowd down the carpeted isle into the bright, cavernous hall.

“Would you like something to drink?” Rhett asked courteously.

“Nah, thanks though. Everything here is probably insanely overpriced. But I’m sure they have a water fountain…” Link trailed off, craning his head trying to look over the gathering crowd.

“I’m faster, I’ll find some water and bring it back. Wait here.” Rhett said eagerly and disappeared before the brunet could politely decline. Link smiled to himself and lightly shook his head. He stood waiting, lazily scanning the sundry of stylings of his fellow audience—some in exemplary good taste, others excessively laden with baubles and synthetic fur, yet some sloppy and ill-fitted. Every now and then he appreciated the classic décor that looked to be an extension of the theater’s interior.

“Link! Hey, Link!!”

The brunet turned in surprise and saw his former colleague, Timothy Larkin, enthusiastically waving at him from a few feet away. Link weaved through the crowd with a pleasantly surprised smile.

“Tim! How have you been man? Sorry I didn’t stay to catch up after court the other day, I had a meeting scheduled after.”

“Oh no worries at all! Good to see the private sector didn’t turn you soft, huh?” The rotund blond nudged him with his elbow good-naturedly.

“Nope. Once a prosecutor, always a pain in the ass.”

To his surprise, Tim didn’t respond to his humor with his characteristic hearty laugh. Instead, he chuckled stiffly, obviously distracted. “Hey uh…speaking of court the other day…” Timothy looked around him, seemingly anxious. “There’s something I need to tell you. Somewhere less… _crowded_.” He pressed his voice low, glancing at the patrons standing and talking around them as if each and every one of them was a threat.

“I…I don’t know where we can go. This is my first time here, I haven’t even found the water fountain.”

“Let’s just move over to that wall.”

Link hurried after his friend until they reached the much less populated area. The blond prosecutor continued to dart his eyes across every person who might be in earshot. He slung an arm around Link as if it could shield the conversation from prying ears.

“You uh…heard about the East River dredge the other day?”

“No, not yet. Why?”

Tim nervously cleared his throat and licked his lip. “You remember Emmanuel Zangrillo’s girlfriend, Lulu LeFevre? The girl who went missing when we were trying to interview her?”

Link nodded briskly, an insidious, undefinable sense of dread made him momentarily speechless.

He leaned towards Link’s ear and whispered, “It was her body.” As if Link’s gasp wasn’t enough, he added, “hollow-point bullet through the neck at pointblank, the Genovese signature.”

 

* * * * *

Rhett hurried through the crowded space, embarrassed by the intensity of his urge. He was planning on taking the concession run no matter what Link’s response might be, because _he_ needed to satisfy his hunger away from his human companion. Provided, he had consumed a generous helping of synthetic blood before he got dressed, out of pure caution. Furthermore, Rhett thought he had successfully conditioned himself against craving Link’s blood. He would ground himself with the scent of Link’s hair, and think of the tantalizing elderflower bouquet of his blood as an artificial perfume. But something about tonight—how stunningly Link’s eyes picked up the color of that tie, the warmth radiating from his body, the feel of Link’s soft skin held in the palm of his hand for an entire hour, maybe more--it was unraveling his willpower thread by thread. He was angry at himself, ashamed. But he reminded himself that time was of the essence. He sprinted to purchase the blood and threw it down his throat with almost painful gulps.

Rhett returned with a bottle of water in hand and found his human companion missing from the spot where they parted. His strained mind leapt to horrifying conjectures related to the prominent crime family while he frantically scanned the crowd with his eyes. From a distance, Rhett saw a rotund man with his arm around Link and whispering in his ear while the brunet stood stiffly, lips parted, cheeks pale and eyes filled with shock. A wild rage bubbled up inside the vampire. All at once he let out a growling hiss, dropped his fangs and dashed to Link’s side.

“Whoa!”

Timothy reacted to the vampire charging at him from almost a foot above like any other human would: retreating until he was plastered against the wall and raising his hands to shield his face.

“Rhett, what on earth? Calm down!”

It took him a few seconds to see past the red filling his vision and feel both of Link’s hands firmly gripping his arms, pushing him back. He struggled to pull back his fangs and peel his eyes away from his target shivering against the wall.

“What’s going on?” Rhett said gruffly, trying not to hiss at Link through gritting teeth.

“What? I was just talking to Tim here, we used to work together.”

The vampire darted his round eyes back and forth between Link’s chastising look and the horrified human on the wall. He could sense tens of pairs of wary eyes fixating on him.

“I…I’m sorry.”

Link sighed like a long-suffering spouse. “Tim, this is Rhett. Rhett, Tim.”

The vampire gathered himself and extended a firm hand. Tim glanced nervously between the human and the vampire. Tentatively he reached out to shake the towering blond’s hand, but released it right away as if it was branding hot iron.

“Uh…nice to…meet you. See you, Link.”

The rotund attorney practically ran from the duo.

“Again, sorry about that!” Rhett graciously called out after the retreating figure and made sure that the onlookers around them all heard and pulled their burning gazes away.

“What, you’re gonna _eat_ every guy who talks to me now?” Link playfully crossed his arms and looked up at Rhett, questioning him with his eyes.

“I…I thought he was…friendlier than necessary.”

“Dude! We worked together for five years! Do you vampires not use bodily contact as a friendly gesture?”

Rhett ignored the smirk and ran his fingers down Link’s cheek. “You’re still pale from whatever he told you.”

“Oh.” Link’s smile disappeared. Concern once again surged in Rhett’s chest. “Just…bad news. There was this girl related to the pro bono case I was working on for the past month? Turns out she died. They found her in the river.”

The same thing he learned from Artiglio, although the federal agent knew nothing of the dead body’s identity at the time.

“Who’s the girl? What case?”

“Really?”

“Tell me. I’m…very interested in your work.”

Link cocked his head slightly to the side and hitched his eyebrows high up, but Rhett kept his best poker face in place to withstand inspection.

“It was this illegal handgun possession case against a guy called Emmanuel Zangrillo. I can’t tell you anything that’s not in the public record due to attorney-client privilege, but since you already overheard about the girl, her name’s Lulu LeFevre. She was his girlfriend when he was arrested.”

“Does that mean you’re in danger?” Rhett wrapped his large palms around Link’s shoulders and questioned him with piercing eyes.

“From Emmanuel? No. He couldn’t have done anything. He’s in prison and they confiscated the gun upon arrest.”

“But…I thought I heard the word Genovese.” Now it was Rhett’s turn to whisper.

Link sighed and lowered his voice as well. “That…I’m not sure what to make of that. The MO fits, but knowing those people, there wouldn’t be anything to actually tie it to members of the crime family. It’ll just all be coincidence and guesswork for a long time until it gets dropped. And it would be foolish to think that no one outside the Genovese ever put bullets through people’s necks. She could just be the victim of a random crime. Poor girl.”

“But Link…first the attack on you, and then this?”

“I don’t think Artiglio would try again after you broke his leg, dude. And this one…I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with me. And is that for me? Thank you but…that doesn’t look like a bottle anymore.”

Rhett was confused for a second in front of the lopsided smile and the slim finger pointing at his left hand. He looked down and realized that the bottle of water he had been holding was all but flattened by the force of his grip during his confrontation with Link’s former colleague. He handed the water over with an embarrassed smile. They both turned to walk back to the theater while Link rolled and squeezed the plastic to reshape it between his hands.

Rhett was speechless and distracted. He didn’t think it a good idea to reveal that he had chased down Link’s attacker behind his back and learned that it was an ordered ambush. He feared that it would lead Link to remember the gravity of his injury and question how he was healed so miraculously. But all reservations aside, Link was exactly right—he broke the undercover agent’s leg during the rescue. So how was Artiglio, or rather Agent Balor, walking around with springy steps when Rhett caught him off-guard? The answer could only be one thing--the same thing that healed Link.

The blood of a vampire.

But whose? How? And who on earth was Emmanuel Zangrillo? Rhett felt his patience tested by all the unanswered questions, but now would not be the time to drop everything and play sheriff. He understood that more meetings with the undercover agent would require extreme caution and meticulous planning, since he couldn’t risk jeopardizing the man’s mission and his invaluable insider position to help him protect Link. Rhett took a deep breath and compartmentalized the task in his mind, separating it from tonight—the night that he had been anticipating for the past three days, the night that he had determined to make perfect.

“Wait.” Link’s words pulled him back from his racing thoughts. They were just a few steps to the theater entrance, the threshold separating the bright hall and the dimly lit space of reverie and drama. The brunet turned to him, pulled him closer by the waist and looked up at him with an excited smile. Rhett looked into the bright blue eyes, amazed by how they seemed capable of hypnotizing him with each and every look. He felt Link’s arms tugging him closer as he reached up for a kiss. It was brief and chaste, but the sweetness of it made Rhett’s head spin.

“Okay. Now I’m ready.” Link said with a coy flick of his eyelashes and pulled Rhett by the waist towards their seats. As soon as they sat down, the brunet held out his hand on the armrest with an inviting smile. Rhett joined their fingers and felt the warmth of Link’s touch travel from the ends of his fingers all the way to his immortal heart.

The second act opened with a glamourous song and dance masquerade. Rhett found it hard to concentrate while he could still savor the peppermint taste of Link’s lips. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Link’s index finger playing with his lips. The tease was driving him mad. But his love for music eventually drew his attention back to the stage. He contemplated the words “hide your face, so the world can never find you,” and savored the irony that what the phantom was forced to do to hide his deformed self, when used by the normal, was an act of celebration.

Suddenly the melody changed into somber organ chords and shrouds of fog rose from the stage. A previously invisible door slid open and the phantom appeared in a skeleton mask and an outlandish outfit layered in red silk and gold tassels. He presented a new opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_. “You will sing for me”, he declared to Christine, and disappeared behind a row of flames bursting from the stage.

The company was left in perplexity of the new score. During the rehearsal, the jealous diva Carlotta accused Christine of being culpable for the devastating incidents. Christine was both indignant and frightened while the managers formed a doomed scheme of trapping the phantom at the performance. Frantically she sought refuge in the cemetery and sang longingly to her father’s tombstone:

“You were once my one companion ...  
You were all that mattered...  
You were once a friend and father...  
Then my world was shattered...

Wishing you were somehow here again...  
Wishing you were somehow near...  
Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed,  
Somehow you would be here...

Wishing I could hear your voice again...  
Knowing that I never would...  
Dreaming of you won't help me to do  
All that you dreamed I could...

Passing bells and sculpted angels,  
Cold and monumental,  
Seem for you, the wrong companions –  
You were warm and gentle...  
Too many years fighting back tears...  
Why can't the past just die?

Wishing you were somehow here again...  
Knowing we must say goodbye  
Try to forgive... teach me to live...  
Give me the strength to try...  
No more memories, no more silent tears...  
No more gazing across the wasted years...  
Help me say goodbye.  
Help me say goodbye!”

High above the stage the phantom appeared, singing “Angle of Music” and offering Christine his company and guidance. Entranced, she reached towards the phantom’s hand until Raoul pulled her back into reality. The rival suitors declared war upon each other. The phantom’s rage ignited flames that shot from the stage. As the fire disappeared the curtains fell. Down the stairs came the managers and constables preparing a siege while the phantom mocked them from his invisible haunt. As he demanded, the company began performing his composition.

The actors filed onto stage in costumes flaunting distinctive Mediterranean styling elements: an abundance of embroidered roses on red and green velvet veiled under layers of black lace and gold trim. They sang dissonant notes in a minor key. Don Juan narrated his plan to trap the young maiden, concealed himself with a black hooded cloak, and disappeared. The maiden, played by Christine, descended the stage with light, dainty steps and an innocent song of love and dream on her lips.

The figure of Don Juan returned, entirely shrouded in black. Despite the opaque hood over his face, as soon as he started to sing, the phantom’s voice rang beautifully through the theater:

“You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge,  
In pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent...  
I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge –  
In your mind you've already succumbed to me,  
Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me –  
Now you are here with me: no second thoughts, you've decided, decided...

Past the point of no return - no backward glances:  
The games we've played till now are at an end...  
Past all thought of "if" and "when" - no use resisting:  
Abandon thought, and let the dream descend...  
What raging fire shall flood the soul?  
What rich desire unlocks its door?  
What sweet seduction lies before us...?

Past the point of no return, the final threshold –  
What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?  
Beyond the point of no return ...” 

Rhett involuntarily tightened his hand around Link’s as the phantom’s hands hovered closer and closer to Christine’s body. As he pressed his hand against hers and approached her heart, she suddenly broke away. Suspicion emanated from her every movement. However she continued to sing with light, clear voice:

"You have brought me to that moment where words run dry,  
To that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence...  
I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why...  
In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining,  
Defenseless and silent - and now I am here with you:  
No second thoughts, I've decided, decided...

Past the point of no return - no going back now:  
Our passion-play has now, at last, begun...  
Past all thought of right and wrong - one final question:  
How long should we two wait, before we're one?  
When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom?  
When will the flames, at last, consume us...”

As she continued to sing Christine danced closer and closer to the phantom, until their hands joined and the phantom had her in a vise grip. She struggled against his pull while they sang:

“Past the point of no return, the final threshold  
The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn...  
We've passed the point of no return...”

The music came to a screeching halt at the exact moment that Christine lifted the black hood from the phantom’s face. The silver half mask was revealed to all. The phantom stumbled, surrounded by guns aiming at him in the dark. Trembling, the phantom sang a heartbroken verse and forced his ring onto Christine’s hand:

“Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime...  
Lead me, save me from my solitude...  
Say you want me with you, here beside you...  
Anywhere you go let me go too -–  
Christine, that's all I ask of—”

The space resounded with a blood-curdling scream when Christine yanked the silver mask from the phantom. Furiously he shielded his face with a hand and violently pulled Christine off-stage. Flames burst from the floor and the crowd was left in panic. Raoul chased them to the phantom’s lair just in time to find him about to make Christine his bride. As they fought and argued, the phantom threw a bright red noose around Raoul’s neck and declared to Christine that her agreement to marriage was the only thing that could exchange for her lover’s life. “Angel of music,” pleaded Christine, “you deceived me, I gave my mind blindly...”

“You try my patience. Make your choice,” ordered the phantom, with his ghastly face unmasked and exposed in the spotlight.

Slowly, Christine rose from the floor, “Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?” She sang, “God, give me courage to show you, you are not alone...” She glided forward, not a trace of fear in her steps, and cradled the phantom’s deformed face between her hands. She pressed her lips to his in a determined kiss. The orchestra boomed the tune of “All I Ask of You”. They pulled apart but Christine leaned in again with more tenderness and adoration. Their lips lingered together, but it was the phantom who pushed Christine away. His whole body was trembling when he gazed at her in shock. All was silent. 

Softly, drumbeats sounded around the stage. A distant chorus loomed with declarations of hunting down the murderer, the elusive animal who has haunted the opera house. The phantom commanded the lovers to leave, to forget and to never tell his secrets. He screamed, descending into madness right in the middle of the stage. As the orchestra fell silent, the music box came to life, playing a ghostly echo of “Masquerade”. The phantom mourned his lifetime of disguise and hiding, sobbing and shaking on the floor. In his final moment, Christine descended the stairs in the pristine white dress of an angel, and placed the phantom’s ring in his hand. “Christine, I love you,” he sang, while she held his hand and wept. She stepped away reluctantly, sparing forlorn glances while the phantom nodded solemnly, encouraging her departure from his world.

“Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime, say the word and I will follow you...”

She sang, turning to the phantom even as her steps took her further and further away. Just then her young, handsome lover Raoul appeared at the top of the stairs, offering his hand with the words: “share each day with me.” “Each night, each morning...” she replied, and disappeared.

On stage, the phantom picked up the veil that Christine discarded.

“You alone can make my song take flight!  
It's over now, the music of the night...”   

He threw the black hooded cloak over himself and sank into a black velvet chair. A lone dancer rushed onto stage and tore the cloak away, but underneath it was nothing but the phantom’s silver mask.

All the lights extinguished and applause roared through the theater like thunder.

When the stage was brightly lit again the actors reappeared group by group, taking their bows. Rhett clapped his hands along with the rest of the audience, still a touch disoriented from being pulled back into reality. He was so preoccupied with the magnificence of the music that he didn’t think much of it when he heard a gasp from his left.

“Oh my god!”

That was Link’s voice. Rhett turned to him, confused.

“You’re…bleeding…” The brunet mumbled softly, his words a bit slurred. Only then did Rhett notice the trails of wetness on his face and an unmistakable salty smell. The heartbreaking songs of the phantom had brought him to tears. But of course, a vampire’s tears would be blood.

“Oh gosh…” Rhett raised his fingers to wipe at his face, feeling mortified.

“Wait, wait…” Link held his wrist down with one hand while the other reached into his own pocket. “If you wipe with your hand it might get on your suit.” He pulled out a small pack of pocket tissues, tore open the plastic and handed some to Rhett. The vampire said a quiet “thank you” and quickly cleaned himself, all the while worrying that some might have gotten into his beard. He hurriedly explained that those were tears, feeling ashamed of his monstrous nature. But without saying anything, Link simply reached around his waist and gave him a firm side hug.

On stage, more and more actors appeared, basking in the enthused applause. When the ballet team, the soloists, and the key supporting actors have all reentered the stage, they arranged into neat rows and parted in the middle. From between them the actors portraying Raoul and Christine emerged. The audience started to stand up, cheering loudly. After they took deep bows and stood to the side, a brief silence fell over the entire stage. The actor who portrayed the phantom appeared with dignified steps. The entire theater was on their feet, applauding and shouting ovations for him. He gracefully gestured to the orchestra for the conductor to take a bow as well. Finally he turned to the heroine and took her hand. Then, to the surprise of many, he joined fingers with the second tenor and kissed the back of his hand.

“The phantom and Raoul?” A young woman in the row in front of the duo exclaimed.

“Yeah, they’re like a couple in real life!” The woman on her left replied.

“Oh my god can you imagine them just like hanging out and singing together?”

“Oh my god I would watch that show every day!”

“Totally!”

The human and the vampire shared a mischievous smile and walked hand in hand out of the theater. They walked a block to find their town car waiting for them on the side of the street. Soon they were leaning against each other in the moving vehicle while the cacophony of Broadway was isolated outside.

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

Rhett turned and saw Link looking up at him, those large blue eyes were shimmering slightly.

“About what?” Rhett softened his voice and gently stroked the smaller one’s cheek.

“About…this,” Link stroked his tie, “and the show. I’ve never had a date like this, never _ever_. I mean, this tie must have cost a fortune, I still can’t believe you just _gave_ it to me. And what we just saw? Being in the presence of _that_ performance? That was not just an experience. That’s an honor.”

Rhett felt as if Link’s words have warmed his body from the inside out. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I know it’s incredibly old-fashioned of me to think of a first date as…something of a promise, that it defines a relationship. And for that reason I chose something for you that’s worth keeping and an experience that’s worth remembering.”

Link looked to him with amazement. He cradled Rhett’s face and leaned in for a kiss. It was soft and sensual, with their tongues gently exploring each other. When he pulled away he set his head on Rhett’s chest, and the taller one promptly wrapped his arm over Link’s broad shoulders.

“You know, I used to think of musicals as…something else?” Link said softly. “Like it’s for professionals or scholars or art critics or whatever I…didn’t think I was equipped to appreciate them, if that even makes sense. But I just realized I was so wrong. It’s for everyone who loves music, or just loves good writing, really. It’s simple as that.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Both Andrew Lloyd Webber’s music and Charles Hart’s lyrics are nothing short of poetry. They do leave a lot to be studied for the critics and lofty theorists, like you said, but they also resonate with the common mind in such a way that’s both pleasing and memorable.”

“And the story itself. It’s based on a novel right?” Rhett nodded. “I remember reading an abridged version in middle school. I should really read it in full sometime. You were right when you were talking about love stories with tragic twists. They’re irresistible.”

“Even when the lovers end up together?”

“But what about the phantom? Christine loved him too, if not more.”

Rhett lifted his eyebrows high up. “That’s not an easy conclusion to reach—especially the ‘if not more’ part. Fear would be the common spectator’s interpretation of her feelings for him.”

“Maybe she feared him after he killed but the first time when she sang about the angel of music, I thought it was clear that it was full of love. I believe they have a deep connection on a spiritual level—out of their love and understanding of music. She never shared that with Raoul.”

“Many would argue that she was in love with the illusion of an angel of music, but the illusion was later shattered and she broke free. She never loved the actual phantom.”

“The angel of music is part of the phantom. He is both the angel who gave her his music and the deformed man who was driven to kill by the mockery and hatred of the world. Isn’t that what she’s singing about, ‘wishing you were somehow here again’? I know she was singing to the tomb of her father but…I think on a subconscious level, she’s calling out trying to awaken the angelic part of the phantom that she fell in love with.”

“But right after that he kidnapped Raoul to blackmail her, so she would succumb to him.”

“Right, and she kissed him in exchange for Raoul’s life, you might say, but she kissed him a _second_ time, and clearly with so much more passion than just a pretense to save Raoul. _And_ , if all she had for the phantom was fear, she would just run and never come back. But she did go back to give him his ring, and sing for him one last time. She did all that despite his crimes. If Raoul had killed two people, I doubt she would hang around to show him any sympathy.”

Rhett adored the brunet’s animated expressions. His long, dark eyebrows danced while his hand drew excited arches in the air. “I forgot why I was arguing against you in the first place.”  

“Why _were_ you?”

Rhett blinked, feeling a faint trace of dryness at the corners of his eyes left behind by his tears of blood. “Well, as a blood-sucking creature who spent most of his life hiding from daylight, I guess the story of a masked phantom, as the generation today might say, hits too close to home. But strangely, as tragic as the story is, it…gives me hope.”

“Hope?”

Rhett nodded. He gently ran a finger down Link’s cheek and smiled when the brunet drooped his eyelids like a comforted kitten. “I thought that if someone as loathsome as the phantom can win sympathy and…affection, as you argue, from someone like Christine, then maybe…there’s hope for me too.”

Link chuckled. “Wow, says Riddle Waltz, the most beautiful and versatile singer in New York City.”

“Oh come on, I can hardly believe that.”

“Then I guess you are the only one who doesn’t realize that you’ve already won over half of Manhattan. And I say half because the other half of the population would prefer women…and or otherwise.”

Rhett studied the serious set of Link’s square jaw and couldn’t help smiling, feeling uncharacteristically bashful. Just as he was looking away from the beautiful human, suddenly feeling an urge to play with his thumbs, he felt a warm caress on his chin.

“And what _I_ can hardly believe, is that you’re coming home with _me_.”

“I…I am?”

“You didn’t think you were just gonna ask the driver to drop me off did you? You were the one who said ‘if you want me I need you to tell me when you’re sober,’ ” Link lowered his soft tenor to mimic Rhett’s baritone, “I’m perfectly sober right now. And I’m telling you. I. Want. You.” Link enunciated each word. His full lips lingered around the last syllable, puckering less than an inch away. Rhett could feel the human’s warm breath disturbing his beard. Just as his head was starting to spin, the car stopped with perfect timing. Rhett spun his disoriented head to look out the window, and saw that they had already arrived outside Link’s apartment building. He almost stumbled when he got out of the car, but didn’t forget to hold the door open for his companion. Link immediately took hold of his hand and pulled him into the building. The scheming look in those bright blue eyes was dangerous and unequivocally sexy.

When the elevator doors slid open Rhett was pushed all the way in until he was against the wall, despite his superior vampiric strength. The brunet barely looked at the buttons while he pushed them. He pressed his body forcefully against Rhett, bracing his hands against the wall on either side of the vampire’s ears. Rhett was almost losing hold of reality, trapped by the heat of Link’s body. The brunet shifted onto his toes, first nuzzling Rhett’s beard with his nose, then moving up to his mustache. When he pulled back for two seconds, Rhett felt as if time itself was suspended. Finally Link moved in to kiss him. His lips moved gently but determinedly while Rhett happily surrendered to the exploration of his tongue. The brunet gently nibbled his bottom lip and pulled it lightly between his teeth. Rhett wanted to mirror the action, but the carnal desire was unraveling his mind again, and the primal bloodthirst that he so hated was slowly awakening. He had to think of unpleasant things to prevent exposing his fangs. While his mind was scrambling for control, Link had moved from his lips down to his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over his skin, sucking lightly but immediately letting go. Rhett put one hand on Link’s hip, but he had to brace his other hand on the wall behind him. The hot lips moving all over his skin was making his knees weak. While he panted with his head leaning back against the wall, Link gently nibbled the side of his neck, slowly rolling the flesh between his teeth.

The elevator doors opened and Rhett was grateful that Link tugged him by his wrist. He had almost forgotten how to walk.

Everything was a blur when they rushed into the apartment. Two pairs of hands worked at buttons and zippers while various pieces of formal wear fell to the floor. The vampire had never been more conflicted. He wanted to prolong each and every moment, to take his time drinking in the sight of each additional inch of exposed skin, to touch, to taste…but from a much deeper, much more primal place rose an urge to erase every last trace of distance between their bodies as fast as possible, and satisfy his passion. He could hear the firm thuds of Link’s racing heart. It was a beautiful sound. It made him feel like he could remember what it was like to be _human_ , to have that scorching tightness in his chest while stealing forbidden kisses. But it _did_ feel human—to feel his excitement straining against his clothing because of the way that veil-thin white undershirt and black briefs painted over the brunet’s body, the soft friction between his fingertips and the scatter of dark body hair peeking over the V-neck, and the sound of their jagged breaths growing louder and intensifying each other. Finally Link’s deft fingers unbuckled Rhett’s belt and gently freed his body from his narrowly tailored trousers. Eagerly, Rhett yanked his own undershirt over his body and reached for the bottom of Link’s V-neck.

“No!”

The harsh imperative and the scorching fingers clamping down on his hands made Rhett feel like a runaway freight slamming into a wall. Slightly disoriented, he froze in place, staring at Link with his mouth agape. The look in those bright blue eyes sent chills down his spine. For a second, he could have sworn it was a look of pure _fear_. The eloquent vampire was at a complete loss for words.

“I…I’m sorry.” Rhett let his hands fall limply from Link’s shirt and swallowed a pang of dread that what he dreamed of may never happen.

“Oh…no….hey…” Link mumbled incoherently, gently taking both of Rhett’s hands in his. “It’s just…I like to stay warm during…um…” the brunet trailed off and snaked one hand from Rhett’s wrist to his hip. He drew a finger slowly down Rhett’s thigh over his briefs, a fraction of an inch from his throbbing erection but not quite touching it. The brunet bloomed into an enticing smile. Rhett was still perturbed but he entertained the possibility that he might have misread Link’s reaction. He chastised himself internally for overreacting and pulled Link closer by his narrow hips.

“You didn’t finish your sentence there, Counselor Neal.”

“Ooh I think you just made me forget my words, Mr. McLaughlin.”

“Mmm, can’t have that, can we?” Rhett slid a hand over Link’s shirt and up his back, and firmly braced the groove between his sharp shoulder blades. Link lolled back into his hold. His blue eyes turned into bright sapphire rings hugging dark pools of desire. “Because I need you to tell me how you want me.” Rhett cooed, momentarily feeling proud for himself, for successfully masking his insecurity of being estranged from the carnal pleasures for quite some time. Somehow he managed to choose his words when Link was looking _that_ beautiful.

The sight of Link drawing a sharp breath with heavily hooded eyes only boosted his confidence. “That’s…different. From…from how I dreamed it.” Link mumbled huskily while Rhett pressed his lips to the expanse of delicate skin above the white V-neck, practically holding his breath against the addicting perfume of Link’s blood.

“Oh? Are we talking about the pool table you mentioned in passing?”

Link let out a strained “hmm” and palmed the vampire through his briefs. His strokes and rubs sent heat pulsing through Rhett’s entire body. “Yeah.” Link replied, his voice was between a moan and a whisper, “you just kinda…picked me up and…took me the way you wanted.”

“You know…” Rhett fought how much the description was driving him wild, and scanned the room. “If you would like to simulate a pool table…” In a flash he darted to the kitchen counter, picked up the flowers he brought last Friday which were prospering under Link’s care, and transferred them onto the coffee table. He turned to the couch and picked up a colorful plush blanket. Faster than the blink of an eye he had returned to the kitchen counter and draped the blanket over the hard surface and the elevated ledge. He put one arm around Link’s lower back and swept the other arm under his knees, easily picking up the slight frame and gently setting him down on top of the blanket. He smoothly pressed forward and stood right against the edge, between Link’s knees.

Rhett pushed a strand of hair behind Link’s ear and whispered to him. “Is this similar to what you had in mind?”

“It’s better.” Link wrapped one hand on the back of Rhett’s head and pulled him in. He devoured the bearded lips while sliding his other hand down the taller man’s bare back, all the way until his fingertips were buried beneath the waistband of Rhett’s briefs. “Now take these off.” He commanded in a soft whisper.

Rhett quickly slid the elastic fabric down his infinitely long legs and stepped out of them. His excitement bobbed between his legs with each step he took. When he was back in position between the brunet’s slim legs dangling off the edge of the counter, Link kept their eyes locked while licking his hand from the heel of his palm to the tip of his fingers, again and again. When he finally wrapped his hand around the taller man’s stiff mast, the wonderful heat and slickness tore a growl from Rhett’s throat.

“Now do me.”

Rhett swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth and closed his fingers around Link’s waistband. He slid the fabric very carefully down his sharp hipbones while Link lifted his bottom off the counter by his hands, flexing his well-defined biceps. Rhett inserted his hands all the way into the back of Link’s briefs and glided down the perfect curvature of his bottom, pushing the underwear down his legs inch by inch. He tossed the soft garment on the floor and put his hands back on Link’s ankles, gliding all the way back up his legs. The lithe brunet shivered under his touch and panted with a keen smile, mindlessly rolling his hips towards the vampire. Rhett stared at the immense manhood in front of him, firmly upright and glistening at the tip. He finally had what he had been dreaming of ever since the brunet came into his life, right here in front of his eyes.

Rhett’s mind was almost blank when he reached out for his prize. He cupped his palm over the pearly dew at the tip and gently rubbed the entire length, making it slick all over. Link moaned and rolled his head back onto the higher ledge of the counter. His sharp Adam’s apple jutted into the air. His long neck was submissively exposed and flushed with the heat of his pleasure. Rhett couldn’t help pinpointing the veins and arteries radiating a distinct aroma. His discipline was the lead weight hanging at the end of a hair-thin thread. Focus on _giving_ him pleasure, he ordered himself. _Don’t think about what you could take from him just because he’s human._ But seeing Link’s long fingers clutching at the soft blanket and hearing his increasingly loud and urgent moans, holding on to reason was the last thing on Rhett’s mind. Before he realized, his hand had been moving much more zealously. Link’s moans were reaching a high-pitched crescendo, but then the human practically slammed his hand on Rhett’s, stilling it completely.

“I…I can’t finish just yet,” Link mumbled between labored heaves of his chest, “I want to feel more of you.” He pulled Rhett’s hand towards his lips. The vampire was slightly confused. He watched keenly as Link looked into his eyes and snaked out his impressive tongue. He pressed the tip of his tongue to the base of Rhett’s fingers, and lazily licked up all the way to the tip. First the middle finger, then the index. Link’s plump lips wrapped around the digits, lingering slightly at the top and then plunged all the way to the base. The wet heat was overwhelming and the connotation of something even more intimate made him growl. Rhett couldn’t help but let go.

His fangs sprang out like a pair of daggers.

With his eyes half-closed from the intense pleasure, Rhett allowed himself a deep, animalistic moan. But then he felt that Link’s lips had stopped. He opened his eyes and suddenly realized what he had done. Frantically he shielded a hand over his fangs and stared at Link with wide, apologetic eyes.

“I…I’m sorry. Please…don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

The vampire studied the human’s face intently, and his expression said the exact same thing. Still slouched back on the counter, the brunet reached up with his free hand and gently touched the tips of those fangs.

“Careful.” Rhett quickly grabbed the exploring hand and held it still. “If you break your skin on those, I would immediately taste your blood and…I’m not sure I would be able to stop myself.”

“What if you don’t? I’ve given blood before. I might get dizzy but it’s not...dangerous or anything.”

“No.” The taller man held Link’s hand over his heart. “I won’t do it before I know I can…stop myself. I’m still practicing self-control when I’m around you and…if I take risks without being ready…I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“Okay.” Link said softly. “If that’s what you want then…that’s what we’ll do.”

Rhett frowned slightly, contemplating how eager the brunet was to please him via agreement. But then Link resumed working on those fingers, and all worries were dispelled from the vampire’s mind. When the lovely human seemed satisfied with the work of his tongue he pressed Rhett’s fingers to the most intimate part of his body. He helped them slide past the tight ring of muscles, letting out a long, sensual sigh. Rhett instinctively started massaging the tight muscles while using his free hand to brush the choppy fringes away from the sheen of sweat dewing on Link’s forehead. Then he returned his attention to the brunet’s throbbing length, using both of his hands to heighten Link’s pleasure. The dark-haired beauty arched off the counter and gasped through parted lips. Catching his breaths, Link pulled his eyes down from the ceiling and looked into Rhett’s eyes with pure hunger. He slid his dangling feet up the backside of Rhett’s legs and wrapped them behind the taller man’s thighs. He licked his hand again and resumed caressing the vampire with a matching rhythm.

Moments later Link gently pulled the exploring fingers away and guided the vampire to enter him in the most intimate way. Rhett savored each accretion of heat and pressure enveloping his manhood. He threw his head back and wrapped his free hand around the side of Link’s narrow hip, digging his fingers into the plump bottom. His other hand stayed around the brunet’s length, massaging gently but unrelentingly to the rhythm of their bodies swaying and thrusting together. Rhett felt as if every nerve in his body was awakened. He felt a wonderful mingle of warmth and electricity, as if he was once again _alive_ , setting foot by the most beautiful ocean and luxuriating in the sunlight kissing his skin. The heat heightened and the electricity pulsated. The delectable man underneath him also moaned louder and faster, but his voice was so beautiful it sounded like a passionate song. His body started to tense, but in the most wonderful way. He lingered at the apex of pleasure, and released like a glorious cascade. At the same time Link let out a truly delighted moan and spilled pearly drops over Rhett’s hand and himself.

The vampire panted fiercely and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the counter. He held their bodies together through the lingering shudders, but careful as to not lay his weight on the slight brunet. Finally their breathing calmed and the mischievous beauty underneath him started giggling and pulling lazy fingers through his short blond hair. Rhett carefully withdrew himself and stood up. Discreetly he retracted his fangs.

“We gotta get you out of that shirt.” The tall blond commented, staring at the messy trails sticking to the white cotton.

Link chuckled. “I’ll take care of that. Be right back.”

To Rhett’s confusion the smaller man hurried into his bedroom and closed the door. Although the vampire thoroughly enjoyed the view of Link’s perky bottom shimmying while he was walking away—not to mention a glistening trail spilling down those legs, he was baffled as to why he wouldn’t undress in front of him, given the extent of intimacy they just shared. Moments later Link reemerged with a sweet smile and a relaxed heather grey T-shirt. He greeted the waiting vampire with a kiss and turned on the kitchen faucet. When the water turned warm he dampened a paper towel and gently cleansed both of their spent bodies. Tossing the paper aside, he hooked his arms behind Rhett’s neck and leaned in for a deep kiss. Rhett savored those soft, warm lips, but the layer of thin cotton between their bodies stood out glaringly as a strange barrier.

“Join me in bed?” Link asked in a husky whisper.

“Of course.” Rhett followed his darling in tow towards the bed that he had spent one night in, but this time with all of his clothes left on the living room floor. He was deliriously happy when he felt the soft sheets wrapping his naked body and the warmth of Link’s slim legs pressed against his. Impulsively he moved his hands to the bottom of Link’s shirt again.

“Are you feeling warmer now, under the covers?” He asked softly, brushing his fingertips on the taunt skin beneath the cotton hem. To his surprise, Link held his hands still again and gently shook his head.

“I really like sleeping in a t-shirt.” Link kept one hand firmly pulling the shirt down against his body, removing his glasses with the other hand and placing them on the nightstand. He folded his arms and hugged them to his chest, resting his head against Rhett’s pectoral. The vampire’s curiosity was flaring, but he heard the subtle change in the smaller man’s breathing pattern and saw the big blue eyes flutter close. Tentatively he wrapped an arm over his companion and cupped his shoulder blade. The pliant brunet wiggled closer and sighed happily. Rhett couldn’t bring himself to disturb his reverie.

Link breathed evenly and slowly. Rhett felt his warm breaths huff over his chest pleasantly. Although he was also feeling sluggish from the afterglow, he couldn’t possibly succumb to sleep. The more he thought about Link’s expression when he first tried to remove his shirt, the more that fearful look in those otherwise crystal clear blue eyes disturbed him. Something that might just turn out to be a harmless quirk has quietly sprouted roots into the deepest layers of obsession in Rhett’s mind. He had to have an answer. His mind raced while he studied Link’s sleeping complexion. It was so peaceful, so lovely, that the very idea that something could put this precious man in fear was repulsive to his very being.

The vampire spent almost another hour lying awake in aimless conjecture, gently combing his fingers through the raven strands every now and then. He felt the slim legs stir against him before he heard Link draw a deep breath, letting it out with a content “hmm”. Link’s hands relaxed from clenching in front of his chest and moved forward, fidgeting amidst Rhett’s chest hair. The vampire watched those dark eyelashes flutter as the brunet blinked groggily, finally opening his eyes with a smile.

“Hmm. I was about to pinch myself for thinking I was in bed with Riddle Waltz.”

“Riddle Waltz is just a character who lives on stage. You’re here with the real me.” Rhett murmured, tuning his baritone into a husky rumble. He never stopped caressing Link’s hair, adding soft kisses now that the groggy brunet was awake.

“Mmm, Mr. McLaughlin. Even better.” Link wiggled between the sheets and started pressing their lower bodies closer together. Rhett was just beginning to feel arousal stir in his groin when they both clearly heard a rumble coming from Link’s stomach. The smaller one let out a high-pitched giggle and pinched his lips between his teeth. “Wow, that was embarrassing. How long was I out?”

“An hour, maybe more.”

Link buried his face into Rhett’s chest hair while the force of his giggle jostled pleasantly through the vampire’s entire body. “Aww, I think you might have rocked my world a little too hard. Now excuse me, beautiful. Gotta forage.”

Link left a trail of hot kisses down the taller man’s neck and shoulders while he agilely climbed over him and swung his slender limbs over the edge of the bed. Rhett instantly missed the heat of his body while watching the brunet’s perky bare bottom move underneath the grey T-shirt as he walked away. Rhett tucked his arm under his head and stared at the exposed brick wall for two seconds, listening to the jangle of cabinet doors and utensils in the kitchen before the mental image of Link’s backside pulled him out of bed. He tossed the rumpled sheets aside and walked into the kitchen.

The brunet was standing with his back to him, leaning to one side with his slender legs slightly parted. Rhett paused for a second, admiring his broad shoulders, svelte waist and the perfect curvature of his bottom, wondering how that beautiful man was all his to caress and to _have_. He stepped forward lightly and pressed his naked body against Link’s backside, snaking his hands over the soft shirt and around his narrow waist and ruffled the brunet’s hair with his lips.

Link moaned happily and lolled his head back onto the taller man’s shoulders. He held a jar in his left hand and a spoon in the right, scooped out a dollop of peanut butter and held it upwards. “Want some?”

“No, thank you.” Rhett chuckled and kissed Link’s forehead. The smaller man set down the jar and pressed his forearm against Rhett’s, stacking their hands together over his waist. He nibbled hungrily at the dollop on the spoon and swayed his hip lightly from side to side, coyly rubbing against the vampire’s dormant manhood. Just as Rhett’s breathing started to turn into low growls and his kisses started to travel from the sleep-tousled hair to the side of Link’s neck, the brunet spun around.

“Wait, are you…you know, hungry?” He gently rubbed his thumb over the hollow of Rhett’s neck and looked up at him with large, inquisitive blue eyes.

“Hmm? Nah…I can get by.” Rhett wasn’t exactly lying. Although each second that he spent with Link he was hungry in every way, his was capable of not losing himself.

“Okay. Just remember that you can ask me if you need…you know.” Link playfully scratched at the vampire’s beard, trailing his hand down the side of his neck and lingering on his chest.

There it was again, that eagerness to please that seemed to be overriding the more rational human instinct of self-preservation. Rhett was immensely grateful for what the beautiful human was willing to offer, but he was worried. He wrapped both hands around Link’s shoulders and cautiously contemplated his words.

“Link…you are willing to offer me your blood because…you don’t think that I would hurt you, right?”

“Exactly, I know you won’t.”

“And…you trust me enough to share with me the kind of intimacy that we just had?”

“Of course.”

“You see…that’s what makes me concerned. For me…both of those things require much more trust than to…bare one’s body.”

Rhett felt the warm body stiffen under his fingertips. Sadness took over the brunet’s delicate features, driving the vampire mad. He so desperately wanted to put that beautiful smile back on Link’s face.

“So you saw right through me, huh.”

“No.” Rhett stroked the smaller man’s soft cheeks. “No, I can’t. And I won’t presume to understand until I actually do.” Gently he hooked his index finger under Link’s chin and lifted his face up until he looked into his eyes. “So please, help me understand.”

Link’s breaths hitched audibly while his chest heaved. Those large blue eyes glistened while still looking into Rhett’s olive green. “I ca…I can’t.” Link voice broke around the words. “You’ll just leave.”

“Link, I promise, nothing about your body is going to make me leave you.”

The brunet stared back with deep furrows between his eyebrows. Slowly he raised the hand that seemed to be clutching at the metal spoon with all the misplaced strength in his body. He relax his white-knuckled fingers and set the utensil on the counter. The metal made a crisp clink against the marble. Link cast his eyes on the floor while a light shiver jostled his body. In his eyes was the profound sadness and emptiness of a man about to do something truly devastating. His tremoring hands crossed in front of his body, pulled his T-shirt up his torso and over his head. He let the limp fabric fell to the floor and refused to meet the vampire’s eyes.

With one look, Rhett felt as if a wrecking ball hit him right in the gut.

 

_(*- Rhett's performance:[Little Black Submarines](https://soundcloud.com/gaga-digi/the-black-keys-little-black) by the Black Keys. It is from their seventh studio album El Camino, which *drum rolls* happens to be Seaborne and Roache's car!!! Oh yes I did._

_\- The performance of Phantom I referred to is one at Royal Albert Hall in 2012, available on[Amazon](http://www.amazon.com/Phantom-Albert-Hall-25th-Anniversary-Celebration/dp/B0071MQBX0/ref=sr_1_3?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1449179901&sr=1-3&keywords=phantom+of+the+opera). Sorry I couldn't find a free version on YouTube ;_;* )_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaaasp! What did Rhett see and what's gonna happen next? Hint hint: some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold...Yes, back stories are coming in the next one! Please please please let me know what you think down below! And I admit I was very sleep deprived when I edited this thing, so please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes you see! I'll fix them ASAP ^_^ <3<3<3


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